Site icon A Hundred Falling Veils

Five Newlings

slipping it off,
this silken garment I thought
was my skin

*

this, too, an act
of violence, opening
my hand

*

after the flood
not stopping to pick through
the debris

*

inside
this conversation
new moon

*

so giddy to lose
this negligee of shoulds I forget
to blush

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