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Literature Text
morning broke the spell
the mirror shattered, now
a galaxy filled with fluttering shards
dancing in air so still it's a wonder
anything could break at all.
softly, winter scars our lungs.
the mirror shattered, now
a galaxy filled with fluttering shards
dancing in air so still it's a wonder
anything could break at all.
softly, winter scars our lungs.
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Literature
winter flow
seeing this river
wide spanned by a wooden bridge
lit by swaying lamps
lift your heads and smell the salt
we'll be in port by daybreak
on a wooden bridge
the winter river running
to the salty sea
unlit lamps smelling of oil
wait on this day's setting sun
the magpies gather
lamp-wick black and frosty white
on wooden bridge rails
coveting the sun sparkles
on the swift water below
Literature
drossuary
i.
in the morning i
wretch, bed vomits me
out, feet sabotage and
catch, head orbiting
doubt.
i'm eager but
quickly repressed,
steps into the dew
soon find themselves
stretched, failure etched
devoutly into coralled
ankles. i recite the scars,
honest liturgy of daily
dread, what of me should i
forget and what should i
assault?
ii.
around the corner you
mention me, sparing
no detail. i failed you
in glaring verb omissions,
my loss glowing crisp
in every touch.
i am not much;
it is no secret to me.
i've watched it be prayed
with heaves, heard it
be cursed in eves, felt it
recoil. what worth has
the toil of an unwanted
burden?
iii.
in the sun
Literature
did your mom pick out those clothes?
I used to wear my heart on my
sleeve but I don't wear sleeves
anymore so now I have it tucked
underneath my bra strap because
all the pants I own have fake
pockets - and I don't like purses
so I can't carry my empathy with
me anymore (but if I'm honest,
I had always tucked it in a pocket
at the bottom of my bag anyway).
I used to wear flowers in my hair,
a blooming crown all the colors
that I had bleached from my skin,
and now all that's left are horns -
delicate and wilting but still bejeweled
in glittering thorns, red with the
blood of every bitten tongue—all the
words I've ever choked back now
dancing across my glass
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