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Kyle Hemmings: Edie Sedgwick #14

November 17, 2015 by PBQ

As a frittering girl

with big superficial eyes,

I hid under the bed

from my father

who was now

screwing a woman

of rock-hard silence.

I imagined making love

to Bob Dylan

but I couldn’t decide

whether we made a baby

under the bed

or on top of it.

Maybe we just made time.

When thirsty,

I will drink cool water

from a rusty spigot.

When I become longer

when the years stretch

and snap, I will teach

a parrot to sing a song

about a braised heart

misshapen as a cauliflower

never floating to the top

never completely cooked.

It won’t get me anywhere,

but it’s the only tune

I can carry

Filed Under: Contributors 92, Issue 92, Poetry, Poetry 92 Tagged With: Contributors 92, Kyle Hemmings, Poetry, Poetry 92

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