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 Feb 2015 Miki
Tupelo
Island
 Feb 2015 Miki
Tupelo
She smiled like a fist fight,
Lips curled into an apology,
Sipping on that darkened bottle,
Wishing for the winter,
Fishing for the rain
and spitting away the sun,
Planting all the daffodils
with the sharpest of knives,
She is an island,
Lost at sea,
unaware of the times,
Smiling like a fist fight,
and a garden of knives
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