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Onoma
Poems
Jul 2023
The Matador is Still There
a Mouth remains open--
never having hungered
after space.
a matador is in it--his
figure cannot be seen at
all.
though he is still there.
the bull he dances with
is still there.
they are a floating heap
of red roses--whose petals
disappear into their own
impaling *****.
as a cape would.
Written by
Onoma
NYC
(NYC)
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