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He Who Is At The Top

There is a purr           when you sleep like rattlesnake beats you tell me

when it is my time to die I will die

i’m hanging               onto the bark I won’t

                                                                   fall now

if its the last time I

                           slip

I will

        twirl

into your dream

girl

    bury you behind thick

strings    and     strum their maroon cords

plum rare steak fingertips                        fading into cement tone

you will love me the way that songbird  chirps at olive worm

sing to me like fuchsia parrot                  begs behind cauliflower glass

you will

           drop down and push

up until it is time to

                           go back into bed rot

our grilled hands ablaze a peppermint pool

sea of bright night and getting back to the right melody

 

 

 

 

Taylor Castelot is a poet and editor based in South Carolina. She has her MA in Writing from Coastal Carolina University and will be starting her MFA in creative writing at the College of Charleston in the Fall. Taylor loves tapping into the unconscious whimsy part of the mind and exploring life through the lens of nature.