Change of State
by Laurie Kolp
After the blackout, I stand
and scrape stones from my knees
uncovering pinpricks of blood
beneath wine-splotched tattoos
then slide through tear-smudged glass
to vacuous kitchen. Have I been here before?
Wet paper towels daub the filth away
stop, my throbbing body.
A washcloth placed upon my fevered forehead—
my mother, perhaps?
You see, I left my lover this morning.
Everything I thought I ever knew about truth
suddenly cracked like frozen tree limbs.
As fast as one cold snap, frost that bites
the fragile dead.
Like me.
Gyroscope Review 14
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