Joelle Chesselet

There is no fear
here on the edge
it is dammed
it is dead

thorns thread the putrified flesh
stiff on the ledge

Always nearly never actually
a party
lives on the edge of me

Peri ferally

at last my heart unzips
Pomegranate pips scatter
raining

Like flying frogs on fire
the fearful fragments die

I breathe underwater
Geological
now

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