shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Susan Landgraf

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When the Veil between the Worlds Is Thinnest

It's aquatic in the knife-sharp cold.
A whore comes out of the ice-sheathed forest.
A virgin balances in the sun-lit litter.

Holiness sputters in painted-over words.
The law is painted over with graffiti, and the witches
talk louder than the con men.

The fresh-picked marigolds begin their drooping.
Carved pumpkins lose their grins.
The sun shuts its eye and the woman down the street

gets her security deposit back. On the other hand
she watches the television bloom red
with forest fires.

A whore disappears in the smoke. And a virgin.