Mary Kasimor
keys to where
I don't know when

dried roses

memory examined the brain

a pure
vessel holding nectar

don't let it spill out
surprising wakefulness
the spirit rests in ankles

breasts

the liver's
waterfalls
the death of water
is no ordinary
condition

I will let you
know when time changes

when you ride your motorcycle
through its thoughts

come

out of combustion
machinery
claims its birth
e-mail the poet at mkasimor@yahoo.com
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