Anonymous

Kinda interesting. The author of this asked that it be posted as an anonymous work, and RealPoetik is of course complying.

AGE ONE

There-has three lives left,

Fluid in a plastic bag is always circumspect.

Someone thought it had been baby love.

Collect, rearrange-a moan is gathers

To roll in these old throats.

Powder my lips-fill crease.

Clear forehead; lotions, dear.

Dusts me with sugar,

Locks me in glass: on display-

My paralyzed ankles, perfumed.

Suspend me cold jellies.

These empty cheeks, brighten them up!

These blind eyes, keep laughing!