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the tender


by Amantine B



He dried her into Hourdequin tempera;

fed her tender pebbles fractioned from

Lacasse paper.  Postcards of bleak pictoria;

a conjurer of doves tongued to his beak.

Mis-en-scene de Tournai, in the rain.

He let her live amid feathers, to serve her,

whipped of paint and mulch; an older texture

spun for breakfast.


She kept Joseph's letters, forgetful of his name.


 




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