Tag: Poetry
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Still

She clears her throat And the sound of it Spreads through me like grout A maze of cement Snaking between bricks Between me and her She traces my chest with a finger That near draws blood But pastes me together I become aware of how my body is In a room With Medusa and her…
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Swirled

I. The first flowers you gave me were plastic You said you never wanted them to die I planted them right by the window And we corkscrewed red, until I was a drip on the side of your curved glass Slipping Legs sliding You scooped me up and called me fine wine II. May through…