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Journal header; thanks to Unicorn |
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cultivated pearls trace moons and stars irritations glossed and swallowed whole fallen stones, the space the absense scar, a surface taut and meaningful, a braille; a little studded mouth. I clasp, I clutch, concealing secret keys and coded notes, and fuzzy corners I don't frequent, much; there's powder on the mirror in a coat . . . I have a silver penny for a charm a flower hot and red beneath my glove and air for words, my shield, my sword, my arm, sewn up with pretty beads, and stitched with love. Pandora's box. A weighty, beaded purse, and overwrought but true, my little verse. |