The army of clones
carry scythes
You don't deserve folds
Your voice is
left in the walls
We don't do lunch here
You're in the ice
I'm on the plane
There are wolves
and fish at the door
My blue brooch broke
we talk architecture
The cliff
has split in half
The others steal our
potatoes
A flock of horses
some gazelles
clothes they mistake
for skin
We say goodbye
you leave in a canoe
The blue bird
with teeth
Drawing for a bird