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Poem #31

Double Helix Breakdown

She’s waiting for spiders to crawl from her fingernail ridges and ride into battle, feeling their history as they mutate into something new then forgotten. Mumbled malignancies grow in her mind’s trauma corner, frying the DNA’s carbons to a crisp, leaving a lineage of illness for her children to deal with on their own. She’s living their resentment already.

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Poem #33

Striped I fell from a dock in the summer, split my hand open like a ripened fig, blood drip-dropping to ruddy the waves while I gulped down salty red, I swam to shore, hand raised above my head, looki

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