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When Manuscripts Turn To Stones

I had received
five manuscripts


when I decided
to buy one
and shatter

its body, cut
the lenses
in half –

your face still
moved and surrounded
the ribbons

of color, your eyes
blushed with red,
your mouth

tinted blue
as though
under water.

Your arms became
as though

you were swimming.

You are a memory
of hair
and ribbon

and fingers


Published inBlogging & PoemsMy Poems

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