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OnwardFlame
Poems
Sep 2016
Eating Air
There were flies in my dumplings tonight
Two to be exact.
Dark their wings shiny
Eyeballs red
I wanted to eat around them
But comedically and calmly pointed them out
As to not wound my friend
Who is really quite a good cook
And I just think
Sometimes no matter how eloquent you or your dumplings might be
Sometimes flies die in the sauce of your food
Mid your chop stick reach.
Written by
OnwardFlame
Los Angeles, CA
(Los Angeles, CA)
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