Momma had a baby and its head popped off. Momma’s tits got heavy, life’s milk poured out. Momma had a baby and her butt popped out. Bottoms go poppity-pop— POP, when babies sprout. Momma had a baby and its head got pop’d on the corner stop awaitin’ electric signal walk. There are no flowers here, just weed, weeds, dandelions. Continue reading Dandelions II by Elizabeth Devlin
Yellow, mellow fluorescents and legal pad lines divide the road between now and forever. Lawyer’s musical pen scratches the order: one permanent residence, one father of happenstance, one repeating distribution, of meticulously calculated funds. How do I love thee? Let me count my bills and decide. When consulting suits and considering missed pursuits be advised. Retainers are not exclusively paired with braces. Puberty is long … Continue reading Dandelions by Elizabeth Devlin
