Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2014  Vol. 13  No. 1
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Voice of a Silhouette

I rubbed the rays—

albumen

strings through my fingers.


Imagine pulling poisoncoins across a counter,

to your stomach.


You don’t see my bone map.


I’m almosthere

now.


Still moving


throughthis.  end  


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