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May 6
sallow sunken hollow caves caked in mud
and a crackled mouth
streaked with white and a sort of quiet mortification
never
                               open                                                  it
                please                                              
                                                  they mustn't
                                                          could not bear
               to                                                                            hear
                           you
grotesque
oil painting
made of skin and sinew and chipped memories
framed
limp and greasy drapes
it is reflected on all four sides
it moves along with you
it blocks your view
look closely beyond the canvas and you might glimpse the perfect paper people
with their stapler smiles
and buzzing hums
against their ceramic tiles
how’s the weather over there, friend?
it is
                                          far
                  too
                                                                  humid
in
            here.
Noura Abdelrazec
Written by
Noura Abdelrazec
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