Poem a Day/ April 13th, 2011 – xTx


Peeper’s eyelid is “swelled up.”  That’s what she says.  Peeper says that.

Peeper pulls her lower lids down using her cheeks.  Turtle-backed, red half-moons eclipse her face.  She looks murdered. Peeper does.

Peeper!  I yell her.  Peeper!  Then I quiet, peeper…  peeper…

My head makes a capital M in front of her face three times; the first time slow, the second time, fast.  The third time is lifting a wrench filled with hammers but made into time.  The third time is extra-careful.  It is studious.

She huddles.  She waits for me to finish. Peeper does.

I see nothing.

And I don’t.



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