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| shikoku The shred of regret is a gold crane; is washi paper. Folded and tucked like tendrils behind an ear. Surging waves of blood through veins; breath captured by vapored breath. Fly to Shikoku, tongueless regret. I listen for its name, ripplings. Harvest of snow banks. Its face, pressed into a wing. Mia Moore 02 apr 01 |
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