June 30, 2012
the key on my necklace
doesn’t unlock anything,
and the band on your shirt
can’t help you sing
harmony sits like flip-flops,
right between the toes.
it spreads like the soft tinkling
of a new charm bracelet’s
bright empty links
it walks the spiked tightrope
of barbed wire fences,
waiting as greener grass seed
falls from both hands
and sinks
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