in the attic

do something for someone
else before your eyes glaze over.
pull out thorns and catch
lamentations dripping off chins
pooling in between fingers and
flowing in rivers through lines
in your palm. pull open something blue
and crush something green before
oil and earth and water and dust collect
in a pile on top of your dresser drawer
like a rippling reflection of
something beautifully herioc put away
to be fondled by peanuts.

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