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I stitched
the pieces together,
licking the corners like an adulterer; saliva
on paper on cotton on silk.

frayed edges, two button hole eyes
a fresh slit for a mouth.

immediate attention
to the navel
and a line of brown and red
turning yellow at the corners,
two drops of salt solution
dribbled above
like the remnants of a past life.

just a second. just a second.

naked for a dress
i watch her writhe and wriggle
clambering towards the miracle edge of a blade;
contemplating humiliation and the ringing of strange telephones.
©2005-2009 ~daffodils
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Submitted: August 13, 2005
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Author's Comments

EDIT.
08/05/07
A rushed edit to make you believe me.

Expect a lengthy edit by the end of the week (hold me to that)
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Comments


wonderful words.

--



Do what you love. Fuck everything else.

[link] :tunes:

all i can say is... yes.
thank you so much

--
K K
meaning..you enjoyed what you read?

a very ambiguous comment, and may i say a wonderful gallery. x

--
K K
i'm not feeling entirely eloquent these days so excuse my ambiguity.... i definately enjoyed what i read... your poem did something for me, but i can't put words on what at the moment.

maybe i'll do better next time
love 'the ringing of strange telephones' , plz write or upload one i dont like this is getting weird

--
Meep.
I love a poem that makes me want to figure out every little thing about it, but which I thoroughly enjoy reading over and over while knowing I'll never quite get there. Poetic S&M? Maybe. More wholesome at least, I figure =p

--
If I'm not writing, I'm just sitting here changing oxygen into carbon dioxide. Like a baby. A little shit and piss factory, maybe one day a man. Be a man today, motherfucker.
never wholesome.

always ready.

thank you (again) xxx

--
K K
!

Y'know the way Rodney Dangerfield adjusts his tie when he's nervous or excited? Yeah, I'm doin' one of those.

But of course (again--and who's this with the prolific thanks now! I don't fuck people up as a general practice, but I might just have to bust out some new writing that puts the poetic S&M kaibosh on you). ooo

--
If I'm not writing, I'm just sitting here changing oxygen into carbon dioxide. Like a baby. A little shit and piss factory, maybe one day a man. Be a man today, motherfucker.

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