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SUSAN TERRISSelektion: The Painted Girl I’m interested
in the stage of a human being where it’s not so important like a negative bled dark left too long in searing light it’s blue all blue and the blurred child walks amid a street of bodies her scant dress white lips pursed listening perhaps to the blue flute of a distant piper the dead in coats and scarves it’s cold but her feet bare arms held from her sides and everything’s blue her head injured head gauze-wrapped no face blinded here but is it worse than the other place where she knelt wearing white panties dark eyes masked by her own cupped hands black-and-white here the only blues inside where to go what to do but whose child is this who will confess piper whose child turned monochrome how will she bear up pay why must we select our children Contributor’s notes
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