she reached in and pulled smoke

from where her heart should have been.

 

she blew rings of

transparent

laughter

that went down,

down,

down

and disappeared behind her knees.

 

she is always

wondering

what                      holds it all together

when                     there is nothing there to hold anymore.

 

a half empty cavity of star dust

existing only to

exist

colors aren’t colors when

her

 

head

 

has gone gray as

a

television screen.

 

if Death is just as dull

she’ll stay

 

counting the tiles on the kitchen

floor.