"...At first I thought I was growing,
but my night time thighs turned into rabid
hutches.
I blame the cracked windows for another invasion
-
bird nests dripping bird baths of hot blood.
How can I create a bassinet for this misshapen
baby?"
Lines from my poem, "Incubus Paralysis", now living in Buhito Press - http://buhitopress.blogspot.com/2015/04/incubus-paralysis-by-juliet-cook.html
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