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Jan 2012
She is her own island
A porcelain memory with
tendrils twisting through the brutally
polite obsession of her few inhabitants
She fancies herself abandoned-laughable!
Doomed daffodils embroider themselves into her hair and
frame her cold hands, pale arms
(mortared, mistranslated) scars
fingernails like moons slaughter foreigners
and petrify
the flea ridden.
Cain Arkay Lazarus
Written by
Cain Arkay Lazarus  29/Genderqueer/California
(29/Genderqueer/California)   
962
 
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