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Monday, September 2, 2013


speaking from the womb,
riling the she-wolves,
arousing them with Prokofiev.  they stood
on their hinds, drew their swords


foxtrot candles, handwritten
report on mount vesuvius,  blushed
when beautifuk rolled on
the page. college-ruled
three-hole punch. start again.

the flower girl did not
move a leg, frozen zaffa. first among children
she corrects the grammar of grammarians


the rev. mcculloch read, “we are not
permitted to linger, even with
what is most intimate.” she

misspelled her name
on the marriage certificate 

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