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64 | Eleven More American Women Poets in the 21st Century leda 1 there is nothing luminous about this. they took my children. i live alone in the backside of the village. my mother moved to another town. my father follows me around the well, his thick lips slavering, and at night my dreams are full of the cursing of me fucking god fucking me. leda 3 a personal note (re: visitations) always pyrotechnics; stars spinning into phalluses of light, serpents promising sweetness, their forked tongues thick and erect, patriarchs of bird exposing themselves in the air. this skin is sick with loneliness. You want what a man wants, next time come as a man, or don’t come. ...

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