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In Body



Down on the ground, bent strangely from the waist

holding Lung Wort’s spotted leaves between fingers

Lucille croaks  “Baby there is no mouth...”

trying to say I love you in the shape of leaves

I hope You, Lucille and Paula

Meridel, Marie and June

Gloria, Pat and Gigi

Molly, Essie Mae and Mae Birdsong too

I hope you are having a good time

pouring the wine straight from the vine

deep laughter among the violets

to be the violets and damn, ladies

while I still have a mouth

hear me trying to say, I love you

in the shape of

a poem.










After Lucille Clifton’s poem Out of Body

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