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because I look in the mirror // and see a body wrapped in excess of plastic, / milk bread in neglected packaging
night of cash, laughter, lip syncs in clouds of vcr cleaner / vapors, teens with bright hair dye and chest binders, i’m / thinking back on turning eighteen
I would sculpt my vagina flowering / from the patriarch’s mural I’d been etched in
im like spaghetti towers & im like / spaghetti-test-culling the spaghetti towers.
A silver fence hums somewhere in the distance, / cutting us to ribbons if we reach too long