see how the girl is almost a girl see the bois grow out from their wounds head first when the trapeze artist loses her grip on the narrative the townsfolk watch silently as she tumbles to a dust that they draw a Venn diagram of a wound & an exit in when the ambulance comes it flashes a bright blue gash & its gaudy o is a pinhole in a door you can see the future through the hole in a girl the doctor says & the boi leans over sees herself step out from the wound whose edges applaud in red velvet grief sees herself wear her wound as a cape, as a caul that she raises as one of her own dresses in
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