Ballerina With Fins Biography

She, under her
Big smile stows
away
the unhappy memories
...

what is poetry anymore/is it this? /
a parade of words/blank ants
crawling across the page/in
a series of condensed/paragraphs.
...

Her hands were bound
to puppet strings
she couldn't run
she couldn't scream.
...

sitting in the warm comfort
of our home, i squabble
with my little sister over your
newly-baked
...

He escaped from the circus,
shark-eyed, white-gloved.
His nose redder than Eve's Apple,
his face whiter than the white of Death.
...