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Mar 2019
pulled from the pent thrall

of the womb...to crowd surf

the hired hands of goddesses.

straightening my gait like a

thin-skinned fruit, under harsh

lights.

colicky disembodiment carried

my voice through walls and

ceilings.

i wanted back what my tiny pink

fingers could not grab.
Onoma
Written by
Onoma  NYC
(NYC)   
138
 
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