Fixed under water glass
Like a splinter beneath Poseidon's skin
There is no Sunday
And no one knows Rhyme
With her cool hands
And her goat's feet.

There are only
Walking dead
From whose wool-lined mouths
Pour blindfolds
And broken keys
Strangle holds
And bloody knees.

Rapunzel bruised
Left for dead forgotten
Bound and gagged
By her own golden hair.
Drowning in the Valium Bath
Warm and blind
Dying slow
But unaware.

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