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Trinity w/Citrus

Crystal Curry

When the girl was just a viscous plane,
the ghost was only
being born.
The egg presents to the focus group:
racecar for ghost, skin for girl.
She pours a foundation
to honor concrete. The ghost makes a ceiling
for her viscous skin. She's pink
& the focus group's read her whole dossier:
desperate to pave.

The egg leaves decisions dead, in the dirt.
The ghost denounces
a dram of limes,
who rejected their locules.
We must not hatch here.

What scared her shoulder
down to its wheel? Why are we
precious & twining like mayflies?

The egg & the girl
have improvised pains. The ghost
by the lime grove
rejected the limes.
Racecar meant exhilaration; skin, tear within,
meant consult the focus group
as soon as you can.
Even pecks later & bushels past.
Even after the hailstorm stops.

The racecar in the ghost
is the viscous girl.
She's pining for asphalt. The egg
is supercool. Light from the lime grove
bathes the green sinner. Light from the sinner
makes the lime grove, just so.

Crystal Curry

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