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Posted by on Apr 24, 2015 in People and Relationships | 0 comments

Poem: Miranda

I could watch her sleeping, hours

On hours, her pollen-head glowing

Pale fringe of hairs quivering like orchid stamens

Softly, lightly, I blow her a breeze

Delicate lashes along the crack of each eyelid



She moves, murmurs

Startled, frondlike fingers clutch at the slightest sound

She does not know

There is no danger here


I lift her soft tiny hand onto mine

Next to hers, my skin is like a lizard’s

Each defect magnified beside that fragile perfection

Hairs on the monstrous fingers coarse as the bristles of a boar

Nails, a wolf’s huge claws, while hers

Are thinner than a rose petal, but

Sharp enough to draw blood


She blinks and smiles, full of sleep

Then the eyelids fall again

She moves her chin; her throat

Is like the stem of a flower

I could crush it with one hand



Emily Lock


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