She had always wanted
to open her mouth-
let truths spill out in
rainbow spirals
like Dorothy did once
under a Kansas sky,
hugging toto to her chest
and twirling,

She bought a ticket to ride
down a brick road painted
safety yellow,
guarded at stubborn points
by tin men holding empty cans-
they danced across the past,
rust and rhinestones
twirling around,

She worships lost idols
in a cracked clawfoot,
swims with lions along
an emerald coast as her breasts
rise like gods from the murk-
ripples of her life fanning out
in relentless rings, reluctant,

She twirls for the mirror,
reflections twist through gray funnels,
ride the hues of her voice,
rush up behind closed eyes-
they come to tuck her in,
the woman who spins
and spins, following rainbow spirals
spilling out in sudden tides.

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