The Astronauts; The Piñata

Abigail Wadsworth Serfass
November 26, 2014
Comments 0

The Piñata

No one told me to do it, but I was thorough
as a vigilante with the hammer. Blame it
on the hitman’s ghost-written bio, cast aside
after thirty pages of full-on true-crime gore.

Some sliver must have cut me, his flick-knife
needling my brain to this ribbon of dream.
My boy was a looter, blond as a surfie, long-calved,
his stealings in a bin-bag gripped at the neck.

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