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Mar 2013
i feel like cutting off something beautiful.
grasp thick stems,
crush petals and leaves til they weep
dewy and full in my palm.
leave a patch,
the size of a man's fist,
the size of your fist,
the size of each fist that has torn
something out from my throat.
april. i wrote a lot in april.
Written by
beth winters
508
   marina
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