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sharyn
Poems
Oct 2015
The First
Silver sliver slices through
whites, glides.
Pop.
Yellow blood bleeds,
spills, sludges.
Salt sprinkled on the sparkling slate
meets tongue.
"Good mornings" sung.
*—S.C., March 25, 2015
Written by
sharyn
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Eiliv Advena
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Cecil Miller
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