We’ve made an art of it.
Our skin waits like a drum,
hands folded, unopened.
Eyes are low watt light bulbs
in unused rooms.
Our shoulders cook slowly,
in dusky rays of light.
This morning we polished
We’ve made an art of it.
Our skin waits like a drum,
hands folded, unopened.
Eyes are low watt light bulbs
in unused rooms.
Our shoulders cook slowly,
in dusky rays of light.
This morning we polished
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