The Other Woman
I wake to blood-bloomed eye,
broken vessel,
vivid vestige of a violent dream
Why not?
Dreams are not some passive passage
There we war and also find the solace of our soul
This carnadine blossom in porcelain white
cries, See? I vision past
what you can see mere waking
It was a tough fight
but we won with a hard right
cross and you should see the other, knockout, woman