my future Josephine
Her,
my future Josephine
from Kansas,
daughter of a beauty queen,
daughter of a master
in disguise
who washed his hands
clean after years of so called stains.
He opened the closet and walked out and now walks among you,
proud of his preference,
proud of himself.
Free of the demons.
Able to float.
He'll call her on Sundays to send
his love
and say hello to his grand babies.
He thinks it's enough,
but
for her, who has pretended to cradle so many others in his place,
it's
just
not.
So, she puts on the face
and orders her Grande Chai
and longs for the Midwest dogwoods and her grandmother's garlic fries
and lays down on her ceiling,
hugging herself with fire rings
and
cries.
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