One Hundred and Sixty-Six.


Izzy circle


the sounds of the street float in
slow and sexy
the sun sliding across the floor
flexing and stretching like a cat

a yell drifts up from below
poor man got a shoe to the head
sequins and silks flying out the window
don’t need any of this any more


Sarah circle


Come little lamb, let me veil you with lilacs
Let me weave my fingers in the curl of your hair
Let me press my nose into the flesh of your stomach
Let me girdle you sweetly with these slaughterer’s arms



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