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Confessions: A poem by Sheri

Confessions


We threw rocks into the inner world

as if we'd hit a mark.

I took a sunken look as treasure

until that glow was all heads

some ship lost when the plank

was in the eye and they turned back.

Find any design unraveled back to nothing

but a straight line under a title of a book

and call this hard work you built to live in.

Start to finish it's been made to last wallpaper

chalk and stains.

Was it wrong to spill my guts?

 











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