an evil god
had salted my wounds
and hardened the putty in
my chest
in my refuge
i have been kissed
on the eyes
and turned into
a flower –
made of plastic petals
in my refuge
i am laying on a bed
of feathers
plucked from birds
who can not fly
i am lost
like a lipstick case
i have lost
all faith in my
digital clock
– sabrina scott
