Second Notification
by Lynn Strongin

One step ahead of death,
you bend darkness
dreaming of passing the blue-lines around.

Air-holes small as those driven by pins
in wax paper for green things to breath in.

You will leave great gaps in the sky     where your soul shot thru.
I will unhook my ladder
stash away Clinique.
Earth will have a sad red spice that day.

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