Where in heaven have you been?
Wreathed waif, pale grace,
Scandalous would-be.
You’ve painted your room gold, I see.
It’s in your hair.
I hate to mention it.
Wasn’t there something . . . about a check?
The doorknobs rattle restlessly—
Spring wind.
Where in heaven have you been?
Wreathed waif, pale grace,
Scandalous would-be.
You’ve painted your room gold, I see.
It’s in your hair.
I hate to mention it.
Wasn’t there something . . . about a check?
The doorknobs rattle restlessly—
Spring wind.
Rachel Cusk photo courtesy the author.
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