sometimes i stand in the meadow and scream
but sometimes i don’t
sometimes i’m a little girl on a cot in a gray-white ward, in view of the pill-zombie line, slitting my wrists with an outlet cover i’ve torn from the wall and clenched in my teeth till it shatters
into stillness
clip the vine
and yet it grows
crooked
mamusia, i am your vine
your darling scapegoat
.
.
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