The Hurting Kind: Poems
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To be swallowed by being seen. A dream. To be made whole by being not a witness, but witnessed. INVASIVE
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How many flowers have I yanked to puppet as if it was easy for the world to make flowers?
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One last orange on the counter: it is a dead fruit. We swallow dead things.
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I go to bed with my beloved. I am delirious with my tenderness.