Lori Lamothe



Yesterday I dyed my hair.
Now I’m painting my toes.
I run my fingertips through the flames 
until the mirror catches fire.
I stare at my feet
and watch poppies
bloom across the linoleum.  

Once on the way home from an event 
I don’t really remember,
the road rose and went on rising.
It twisted and turned
until the ride
whirled us too dizzy to think.
Then the trees fell away and there was only
night and distance.

Sometimes it’s easy to disappear.
Sometimes the beginning of disaster curves
out of nowhere.
When life flattens out again  
you sip coffee and fight over music,
your almost death
dissolving behind you.


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