her eyelashes || driftwood splinters
in and out
with the tide withthetides
when her
mascara runs || it runs like a river
her box canyon mouth
lures wild words
just || long enough
to tame them
with each sharp || intake of breath
she swallows || enslaves
ghostsclingtoherthroat
until the pyre || of her poem
smokes them out || and up
and up
and up
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