Scraps (the Patchwork Girl of Oz)
Stare unsubtly at the wizard, like
milk on the floor. You understand
forever. The center of hell isn’t hot, but
a cheeky jellyfish lamp hangs
from a corner. As human society
encroaches further into fantasyland,
tongues decay slowly and we
forget childhood every morning.
Winter loss lines quietly release
your broken promises.
Swallow the next stage of life.
Every face I go out in, someone
points a gun at me. Trashy people
doing trashy things like lonely vases
tracking roses. The right spell
may be flammable. The skeleton
lustily drills along with the jaws.
Come on. Seven sea cows entered
the flow of years and I
would have skipped out on each
breakable trachea to quench
the burning sensation.
Lord only knows Death’s apology
deserves to be well known.
Wrecking ball broke down
royal oral sobs with the onshore
floweret. Inside a moon of Saturn,
some secret shadow showed
sympathy. A paper hospital
with a widespread reputation
for bringing into existence a person
attached to another by feelings
of affection all day, all year.
But it’s like making a sandcastle.
The waters will eventually wash it away.
April 30: Patchwork Quilt
Conclude the project by writing a poem that incorporates words and lines from all of your past 29 poems.