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Laine Ballard

grace: she who sings praises

pleasure affords pain; yes you can pinch harder

comfort: this is such a nice desk, i said, spreading my hands out across the smooth
long black surface, a place to rest

a blessing to be born into certain latitude-longitude coordinates or a curse or charge it
to my card, i owe you. enter, breathe, no escape. life is slow, suffocate

agreeable: the goldfish by the bed, Rah said, were where she projected
her psyche. one large fish, one small. in a tank, fish rest; we could call
it “sleep” but it’s not as we think of the word

Laine Ballard

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