TW: Mention of blood
By Kelli Lage

I dig out parts of you I don’t need any more / parts made up of your eye color and flint they mixed with / and the day your lip was bloodied by demons of your own making / still you hunt for glory in my dreamland / crying over a moving box / but your stitches can’t hold me / winter’s curse is tumbling down the summit / catching our wrists in the crash / soon my rearview mirror will be foggy / icicles slither down my back / a chill made up of your kitchen in 3 am darkness / my engine stalls, I’m haunted by parking lot meetings and the creak of old swing set chains / shifting into drive / after my foot shatters the gas pedal / please don’t try to revive yourself through the smell of smoke / or the birth of clay

Learn more about Kelli in her bio on the Featured Author page.

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