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July 2005 / Volume Six / Issue Four | ||||||||||
Sean Kilpatrick | ||||||||||
The Lovers’ Trough I lose the room in another pocket. She is coddled by scoundrels in tandem. I twist the stilts into an open belly. My own. It’s Friday afternoon. The patrons clap. I applaud to keep them happy, but puke wood. This causes me to fall over. I step out of my mouth with flowers. She exposes her breasts. My job here is done. |
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RETURN to July 2005 |