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Marc Morais
Poems
4d
Ruin
My body
is a locked room
but they keep
finding the key—
I wear silence
like a prayer—
they said nothing
but their hands
speak fluent ruin.
Anyone—
please—
how do you wash away
a language
etched in spit
and blood—
Other than with a knife—
Written by
Marc Morais
55/M/Canada
(55/M/Canada)
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67
Immortality
,
Traveler
and
Peter Gerstenmaier
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