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Dora Malech

Beneath the girder, fingers,
five finer points dipped to a bowl
of lemon water, lifted dripping.
Larva feeding on the onions.
Bone ash in the porcelain.
Slept through the sonata, seasoned
to taste and simmered, lashed
the laths and dropped anchor.
Beneath the curtsy, a batch
of gingersnaps were priced to burn.



Dora Malech

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