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Peyton Leigh Stille
Poems
Apr 2014
Leech
Leeching to a dependent,
I've never been cured by the cold.
I hear the planes flap their wings
and long for them to let me fly
away with them.
"I don't actually own him,
but we're together all the time
so I guess we're friends."
And I'm taking a bath while
I'm still clean,
to burn the follicles off my
creasing forehead.
Written by
Peyton Leigh Stille
Minneapolis
(Minneapolis)
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