Kristen de Kline #90 at the edge of Lawless

chattering away in darkness dead men leave their hollow bones
by the milk bar     hoist up the closed sign      hack away
hold me tightly     into flesh and bone     shredded

thinly     dead men sells cigars to the boss from the factory
stockpile milk bottles pineapple chunks spearmint thick shakes bottles of L&P
an old edition of Truth 

the empty waiting room     sighs
is that your heart     giving up

on you     hold me tightly      breathe colour  
backwards     splash ink into the

       skyline  

spoons bend     cars rust     that's just the way it is
hanging by the neck at the edge of Lawless     seeping

through the stalled traffic in the wrecker's yard     disassembled
cars hoisted up on wooden beer crates like carcasses, gasping

for air     the trees are finished    the leaves done  
slashed tyres     roll down the hill     extinguished, almost

everything is packed     he says     the world is spun

you hear a woman laughing     in present time now    the world is waiting
for a     head tearing     claws falling     from

amethyst skies     heads, claws collect in a  blue and white porcelain bowl, neatly
white cats     wait      beneath the car under-carriage

out at Lawless a man with hollow bones     smelling of white sugar
breath    tries to kiss you     The Jam refrains slice through the
fly-wire     rope

burns     cuts like paper    the lines don't add up
was he scared of dying    he says it's so
     long  

life       like a  

caterpillar     walking hands
collecting firewood     possums with insomnia
children drink her
blood     is that your heart