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by Vikki Owens

No whine
no memory, no nothing, no more.
Ankles, wrists, and nothing inbetween.
Suspended heart.
Dangled from icy white hooks
from a bleeding mouth.
Pouring out truths
just as quickly
as she spits
Thorns for her.
Dance marionette style.
On strings
hung from ceilings and spiderwebs.


Posted on 04/23/2003
Copyright © 2022 Vikki Owens

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