platform dying

she made her blackened living
wearing sequined mourning veils
a collector of bodies in all ways
such an appreciation for the male form

silver hair contradicting doe eyes
what to make of this woman
who throws knives

a nightclub walk that made grown men feel underage

knowing not to pray to saint francis
if saying the jesus prayer
she gives up living everyday
like her father’s last

high heels make the train to never again
in time
to know her life
is quarter past

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