Compact cars align the cul de sac, spine parallel along a pine tree, semi-truck careens into the neighborhood and its frequency transfers to wood, while the truck rounds out the horseshoe and vibrates the trunk, shakes her spine like a yacht navigating nervous waves. 

Spine enters indoors, her clock-face wields a mustache, but she thinks the clock is frowning. Spine begins whistling to the tune of her favorite car commercial in an attempt to brighten his mistakeofafrown. 

Spine has a porch light which contains a pebble shaped hole on the glass casing surrounding the bulb. Mama robin discovered this break and built a nest inside. At night spine turns on her porch light with the intention of using the heat from the bulb as a catalyst to ignite the nest in flames. For a week now she’s failed. 

Transference of motives.

Built in self destruct. Leaves fall in tie



As to 

Which decay suits the season. 

Red and the nose is sliced 

To spite the face. 

Green is the rot invited

After weeks gone.

Not home 

And the free collapse 


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