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November 21, 2022
"Mes de los Muertos"

Where the Whole of Us Began with Paisley Prints

By Lana Bella

Where the Whole of Us Began with Paisley Prints

In the distance, cotton field weds to
valleys tracing migration's grail,
bends out of shape like a casualty.
Upon this wings of sun, I plait dead
hair into wigs while you haul opus
around house, clutching to the ends
of my voice made of glass. Borne
down from toiling the day's harvest,
I cut into ribbons the delicate lasso of
paisley prints, leaning to memories
of us jetting honey. So I turn, turning
into the weaves where the floor is
worn, leaching a tapestry to chroma
of grain and cornflakes. Mouth drops
with a wet thud, you lose boots by
the nest of fresh cut daisies calling for
shapes of my bebop kick-steps as
a demimonde, blood crest and charged-
breasts slick through the rough-edge
of this August summer.






Article © Lana Bella. All rights reserved.
Published on 2018-07-30
Image(s) are public domain.
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