Kailey Tedesco

FRANCESCA'S TOUR OF THE FEMALE INFERNO

It is so easy to forget
I look nothing like my mother –

How many worlds are stuffed
into my mouth this morning & with what

did you engorge me? A bed full
of something sweetened with familiarity,

probably. Dirt levitates within me
like sleeping girls. My consistency is that

of courtesan bedroom canopies & cabbage
roses dolloping walls at grand hotels.

I am smoke staring earnestly at fog
in disbelief that we’ve been separated

all our lives and are just now meeting
at summer camp – each of us deciduous

as celluloid turning through
hot pupils of wind. 



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