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Last Arpeggios
Poems
May 2014
Last call
Prophets in suits spell your name across the rails
in black-and-white pictures, hung up like wet laundry
Afraid of drying, the words in your last breath climb
towards the approaching train lights.
At sunrise, I hurry to pick up the vowels, but they bite my hands,
cursing me for hoping you’ll burn
slowly, for attempting to steal your voice
so you wouldn’t die screaming
#death
#sickness
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Last Arpeggios
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Margaryta
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