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No Skin Included.

Break open the branch. Inside–
there is lime and tree foam. Like marrow.

The white liquid that illuminates
the skin, full of leaves and freshly-plucked

strawberries. Like dawn, opening:
he captures this about her

in a painting, surrounds her
with blood oranges, places roses

around her face. The girl becomes something
like a funeral, the white-marrow quality

of her skin, the hair curled across
a pillow, the hands poised

for picking daisies.

Published inBlogging & PoemsMy Poems

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