if her fingers are cut off
one by one
to the music of laughter
if her laughter is a sound
i would
describe as god’s anger
is a prayer i would hold
in my broken teeth
and when i get up to leave
she pulls the sheet over
her breasts and says
don’t move
says don’t breathe
don’t spoil the moment
and sometimes this is fine
sometimes
i can’t be too sure
it is only a
small ocean between us
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