THREE POEMS
Jul 01, 2020
2 minutes
CASSIE DONISH
Survival Gown
Beneath your skin, a flood
of glass is surfacing. It means I stay
alone for years
during your week
in the hospital. You breathe like rose
hips crushed, mouth too muddy
to believe. I’m one to talk.The stylist asks if I want my liesto show through. I wade intoa flooded pass. No doctorsattend to me. I dream your departure,parting my hair
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