Exit Sign

He went to the girl club.
And I killed the calico mouse.
My head blurry
with leaving
without leaving.
Go tell him,
the cold moon on the snow.
Dry,
I never knew
he would need so much blood.
Turn it toward the river.
Running lights reflected
in the guardrail.
And it’s a hard right turn,
or it’s into the drink.

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About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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