Friday, November 2, 2012

Locksmith

Carrying the lot of keys, unlocking all, to find metal hearts. Jagged openings,cool forgiveness and a hundred jingling chances. The power in metal swinging from my hips, like a robot god, all the machines speaking their roulette codes. My tender hands keep the answers to those sweet hungry mouths. We pair up and part. We know each other like couples skipping through a park. I am finding my way, the clearance to move larger trapped things. Your bear of a lock, his teeth poised toward me, can be moved, can be made to taste the honey, I hold in my hands.

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