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"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Rachel Alt



Why should this thin green stem
Prop your life upright
And feed the purple petals
That bloom around your eyes?

I knew every word
Until the hospital
Stole my precious adjectives
So nothing now can be bloodred.

Not even the heart that oozes
From the corner of your mouth
Where jagged white teeth beg for
The iron-fist brute who tore you
Plump and ripe
From the ground.