Tag Archives: Rosie Jean Reynolds

Thanksgiving

I wake up from a dream about Indians dressed as turkeys, Headless, spurting Fountains of blood all over gingham tablecloths And pilgrims choking, trying to wipe The blood out of their eyes And the children of both pulling out their … Continue reading

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Simon

I don’t know what to get you For your birthday, Simon. 9 is such a funny age to be. If you were ugly I would let you read my 77 failed poems About Patti Smith, but I think you are … Continue reading

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The Night You Escaped

You hold this, I’ll tape it up. Now swap. Two of us cannot pull hard enough and you’re slippery, Jolting out of our grasp and squirting until we’re making it worse And we settle for face wipes and parcel tape … Continue reading

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