i. her, one perspective,

is secular and simple with blue

plastic eyes and split thumbprints.

and, in a word her is ambiguous

like variety flower packs from

the local wal-mart, or similar.

familiarly, she craves more than

this world has to offer her in one

breath, in one hand. her hangs

her hopes on one street sign

and rarely exhales past these

insecurities, or more accurately:

inevitabilities.

ii. her, with loose words and

flat eyelashes, curls her finger

around hair strands, and

ponders god's mistakes; her thinks

of errors and what clouds mean.

iii. and her, angular, plurally craving