Scars on Paper (Marilyn Hacker Poem)
An unwrapped icon, too potent to touch, she freed my breasts from the camp Empire dress. Now one of them's ...
An unwrapped icon, too potent to touch, she freed my breasts from the camp Empire dress. Now one of them's ...
Spring wafts up the smell of bus exhaust, of bread and fried potatoes, tips green on the branches, repeats old ...
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