poem: colorado rich girl

girl driving home in a beat-up
toyota with the bare legs of spider
men draped over
the cut glass of her open holes, listening
to hey ho hey i’m
in love with you / you’re in love —
but she always says
the wrong thing, he finds her in the toilet
vomiting blood. she pulls herself

apart / inside like the mountains,
the old greek gods
stacked around her comings
her goings, her mother waits
at the Van Gogh paintings and watches
the daughter turn picasso the pills left
in the sink along with the leather
soul-shaped boots the curled
hair the diagnosis and
the forest, the woods, the
call.

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