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Ode to the Flowering Branch This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

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Don’t gaze at me, little flower -

your sticky fingers taste of the

sweetest auburn, and no less -

your head hangs heavily on

demure shoulders, tiny feelers

weaving through gauzy summer

nights, sweating softly in the dark -

steady yourself, close your silken eyes,

the upset dark will chill your bones

when the moon loses her way, so stay -

sail through waves of panting heat,

laugh at the blackness that inhibits you,

no doubt -




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