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June 29, 2010 / Michelle Ferris

Tin Dreams

I, an echo

a big-city girl.

I played in the streets

desires resonating into dreams

spiraling to black.

Destitute, rattled by change.

My heart hung heavy with lead,

fillings for shrapnel words

that pierced my heart,

captured my future.


a whole now broken

the value now less

than a basket of tin.

Our childish games

led us here to a game played with pawns wrapped in blankets

plodding on cardboard squares.

His eyes,

the color of aluminum.


His scent

once comforting,

smoldered in my nostrils,

fire and ammonia.

We lived

a dream made of cutouts

a diorama


Bodies thin,

the texture of yellowed newspaper.

I deconstructed,

a crumpled can


© 2009 by Michelle Ferris

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