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Elle Kris
Poems
Apr 2013
Points
They are translucent gray
and dance in the glimmers of light
when the moon is out.
They have four prongs and don't know
when to stop.
They are invisible sometimes,
and just sit inside my head.
They can sprout slowly, inch by
inch from my unknowing scalp.
Or they explode,
making holes.
Written by
Elle Kris
F
(F)
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Gary Muir
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