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Poem for Charles Reznikoff

On her way to the guillotine 

the Duchess saw a dark smudge  

on her already soiled frock

and quietly sighed,

annoyed.

 

Walking forward,  

she fixed her hair.

She blinked

once, twice.

She flexed her calf muscles,

arched an eyebrow.

She held her head

taut, true.  

Posted 11/13/17
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