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In Utero

‘She’s gone’ they say, while she lays there,

the truth settling somewhere between the sheets

tucked neatly under her withering arms.

Decay brings life to something once living,

skin softening - an avocado left two days too long.


‘It’s not viable’ they say, while she lays there,

a small flicker graphs the steady beat

tucked neatly inside her withering body.

Decay clings tight to something once living, the

beat softening - a pitter patter of droplets from a sink left slightly on.
Posted 01/27/14
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