Why aren't you ever beautiful again, by Sheila Murphy

enough of this scrambled leg fest
here in the west we crispen taste until
the pizzicato version post-conflatio
has been dandled all that anymood can take
and lightning spokes its way in-
to an azurely electrolytic sky
chopped into well-made slipknots
feigning piecemeal overthrow
of my setaside for you and your
yearned fever at a glance
resembling every wiki pediatric tip tone
modest in its sugary neuralgia


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