pale golden cradle
here at the helm
drawers that smell like
letters
imagine your mother
lived there
that that was all you had of her
letters in a drawer
the last time I saw Nonnie
she reached for me
crooked fingers with the loose
moisturized skin
heavy rings of opulence
she had scrambled eggs hanging
from her face
her chin hairs scared me
we felt sick and sad
against her shaking need
Nonnie I use your desk so well
I get it kind of dirty
with all this coffee and glue
but I really really
use it
well
<3 <3 <3 haunting and lively and lovely, n
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