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Mar 2013
I'm trying to fix you.
You stupid girl
You sloppy girl
You glass girl
Knocked from the table edge.
You broken girl
Now just pieces
Getting smaller
Ground down under his boot
Soot
Blow
In his nose
Through his veins
Then
Into his brain.
How can I fix you now?
Keats wrote hundreds of poems and only six were ever labeled good. Excuse my proliferation.
Ann Beaver
Written by
Ann Beaver
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