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At Night
December 2, 2013
Her lopping tresses
Matched her charred grace
And led her down
To a spiral hazelverse.
Like adolescent China
Or a miniature petticoat,
She was a walking
Coincidental paradox.
Her maroon melancholy
Mixed with zigzagged formaldehyde
Led her to acid constellations
And incorrigable escape.
© Allison H., Vancouver, WA
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