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May 2010
did the sun visit the cold shores of some daughters shimmering eyelids that held her in such perfect contempt.

O, sweet child your arrogance is the flavor of god.

(but shall not those fearful minutes
;bleeding from times slashed wrist;
splashing hot seconds over a dusty yellow)

that dangerous womb of light
birthed a frigid nothing
as my fingers slip on my buttons
trying to shield my pink
edifice from chastising
breezes briskly beating
a lonely melody
on the loose weave
of times
everflowing
river riven
plait

protect thee
thy woolen
encumbrance
is
an article
PK Wakefield
Written by
PK Wakefield
757
   Angie
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