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From: “Letters to my Muse”

February 6, 2009

“You are concentric circles round me, dancing that confusing dance. High then low, and repeated over and over. Touching causes shock and I dare not move from the confines, low or high. Grant me three wishes?

Yes.

Mute, I ask for number one. No reply.

Mute, I ask for number one. No reply.

My shoes are black, not ruby, no heals, and the suit I am wearing is someone else’s and fits horribly. It shows the dirt around my collar and blood on the cuffs of my sleeves. I notice that you are standing in the palm of my hand and I wish you not to jump. I scream a silent scream and calmly ask you to stay with me.

Quickly I put you back in my pocket.”

penn

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From → Poetry/Writing

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