Love Letter to Marlboro This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

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Burn in my mouth like cellophane --
crepe-paper-thin, folded smaller, smaller
before withering into air, a bonfire ghost.
Cling to the moon-curve of my lips,
the horizon of my throat which
aches for you. Peel back my lungs until
they become onion flesh, origami, until they
blacken into night, a charred landscape
kindled over hot ash.






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