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  • There is this elegy of kinetic thoughts that starts with you
    At the first breath of a bit of poetry and the silence of movement
    The way we pause to greet you
    Your stories about laying in quiet while the sounds of mouths stifle curses to some gods among atheists
    Humming broken verses for apothecaries to mime poisons to mime salves to mime erotic expositions you saw in magazines
    To call upon me like Romeo to Friar Lawrence who monologues on your irrational impossibilities
    Me the idiot with too much free time
    You the priceless visionary who stuck stories to her beast
    His treason to commit acts of fastidious beautiful rebellion
    Oh HE.
    He who puts on the advances of literary icons and the strength of Pulitzer prizes
    All around your neck in narcissism to serve the enigma of you
    When did you do it?
    The swelling need to shed hen feathers
    Eating the pelt of a fox to become this enraptured vision of man
    Oh god, god to the pagan
    Pagan to god
    I take pride in you
    Where did you bury your hen feathers?
    The preening mirror image of a naked fox
    Why didn't you tell me
    My beautiful predator your handsome portrait
    Lonesome photo tucked in a locket
    You could have told me
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