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Breanne Johnson
Poems
Apr 2012
untitled.
I didn't know what it meant
But i liked it.
In all its ever-present, phantasmagoric, sundry forms.
I liked how it wriggled through the grooves of my fist
And fell in tendrils down my spine.
I liked its sound--briny and crystaline
Like footsteps on salt panes.
Written by
Breanne Johnson
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