Par Avion [ 20.06.2008 – Montrichard ]T.A. Noonan
I write your mooncrater feet. Your mothsneeze walk. Toes of rattlesnake & metric ratchet. Knees of Lake Erie paperweights. Camel rustbelt thighs & your sand-filled bathing suit belly. Your hips of Petit Écolair, buttocks of training-bra tissue. A sex of ladyslip & cold Dr. Pepper. Cilia & Speedy Gonzales waist. Your chest of mahogany stock pots. Your neck of threaded needles, of angled dynamos. Your back of suicide kings. Your mouth of variegated yarns. Your papercut mouth. Three mouths, & eyes that eat almonds & sentries, that promise to sell the moon for pennies on the dollar, that open slowbright —— a hand eclipsing three skies, like the pulling away of hotel sheets to reveal Ursa Major.
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