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Big toy world

Joni Wallace

At four you could make yourself
invisible and stay that way, make a world
out of egg cartons and glitter, here a picnic,
here a glass town. Sometimes you still see
inside your head, a filmstrip strip of sticker stars
and striped skirts, you are parachute-girl, you are dance girl,
you are swagger, you are swim.
Then nothing. Disappeared.
Float for hours, happy as it is.
You can’t tell if the air is moving.
Clouds stretch into a chain.
No ghost, no broken boat, no swan looks away.

Joni Wallace

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