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spinster

ev'ry morning, my cats witness trails of carnage

left behind me

as I go to work.


dysfunction preached into my sinew

has climaxed at a fever pitch so

I try spiritual bloodletting to

drain poisonous theology from

my descendants' experience.

I pray for guidance


from god(dess).

I talk to the flowers,

listen to wisdom

from the river.

a man not homeless any

more tells me he loves

me. I can't


reciprocate, so instead, I

ache for romance while I pet my

kitty.

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