Mercury Glass

Quivering on the floor in a shaking little dance.

Small orbs of weightless toxin on our baby fingers.

We tease the broken thermometer, slender toothpick shards.

Delicate, tender floss like spun sugar on the floor.

Alive on our palms, a motion sicknesses tremble,

Throbbing little beads a liquid jewelry on the hand.

We are dirty-fingered snake-handlers, venom drinkers,

A smudge on the berber carpet .

Molten animal pulsing down the nailbed into the

cracked linoleum.

You wrapped  it up so pretty.

Slick paper wet like a sea animal.

On the mantle now a giant votive of pressed poison, flickering

Alive inside with quivering. 

An adult who raids the medicine cabinet

To decorate Mama’s parade.


~ by SimmerSnow on December 30, 2011.

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