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The Boy and I
The boy and I make nice
because there's too much suffering
and send messages through the flight patterns
of migratory birds
and when his answers caw
at my window I open it up
and cut cloacas in my breasts to let the
fat out
and I tell him "I'll get you your surgery someday
I promise"
and he says "black feathers
blue feathers
south."
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