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| a paper bird painted blue hangs from the ceiling your skin: sweating your thighs tighten around my head you say that you see the face of a fish mourning a fish mourning in pubic weed your thighs tighten around my head i come on stained sheets a paper bird painted blue hangs from the ceiling moves in the slipstream of my standing a paper bird moving above a sweating woman sleeping will become still before you wake and the face of a fish mourning will not detain the air |
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