See It to Believe It

March 30, 2010
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I believed my fingers were his
Tiny twigs
Blades of grass
I believed his shirt was mine
Dye and thread on back of trunk
Golden ring on palm of twig
I made a song that would be ours
But he didn't even sharpen his knives
He may or may not have had my fingers
He could have stabbed me, had he looked

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