Imprint

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Your smile,

teeth imprinted in the skin of my neck,

a side show in the carnival of the cells,

splitting, sawed in half,

the pinnacle of the magic act -

now my mind is elsewhere. And here.

The strong man in red lifts bar bells

in rhythm hitting the ceiling.

With each impact a little lightning

sizzles in the pan, like a hologram

a vision rises, a little electrical,

your smile imprinted in my flesh.

I see it jump from hair to hair,

reaching straight up out of jacket

undone,  open. The flood rushes in crimson over the teeth of the clasps.

Slate cerebellum clouds suck the lightning up with the rain

so the veins return, full,

undulating to the earth

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