Leftover Vixen (day 1208)

I’ve discovered a vixen
That wears death for flair.
She screams murder in the morning
And lifts weights with far off eyes.

I don’t care if you’re death
– Taxi waiting for a surprise –
I don’t care if you’re angling,
For mystery surprises me.

When leftover bottles
Start to yell “Yellow,” and my name,
I take offense to my obituaries
Scribed middle stanza.

I don’t care if you’re death
– Taxi waiting for a surprise –
I don’t care if you’re angling,
For mystery surprises me.

And late night as I’m wandering
Your plans flicker through my mind,
I’m leftover and gangrene
Slithering naked on the floor.

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