Laura

She chucked herself from the library,
Five stories blind and hung briefly.
I heard it from a friend.
Laura’s dead.
She found three dead boys,
Hung from cable
and that broke her,
He said.

We threw empty sixteens
From the roof where we gathered,
Spoke each a shattered dream
Rushed upon the pavement,
One,
Upon another.
The sidewalk gleamed
In all the shards of Laura,
Green and Amber, Blue and Clear,
And ever farther than the eyes of her,
Splashed out in every blink night town,
In every flick night river where
Everybody drowns.

Image: Thomas Dumortier on Unsplash

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