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Feb 2013
When a woman opens her door
and refrigerator to strangers
strictly because
of a familiar last name
the last thing you do
is question the rust
resting on her eyelids.

The first time I met Flatbush
she was a thick brick-***** woman
with stone-seasoned hair
sculpted above her head
and a *** of greens
anchored at her waist.
She was a winter day
warmed by a sea of arms
pouring from the jaws
of a crooked screen door.

She wanted nothing more
than to 5 o'clock traffic
drown me in comfort
and comfort food
so I let her.
for Great Aunt Beauty
nic
Written by
nic  Atlanta
(Atlanta)   
1.1k
     Taru Marcellus and victoria
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