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-as yet untitled-

 

outside the window,

an ocean of poppies,

red like denial.

 

she watched them day-in-day-out,

from sunset to the first shards of sunlight

which crept through their stems

and reflected the underside of their petals.

from this she saw veins, a tiny network of

lines like join-up-the-dots,

a motorway map

thin like emotion.

 

dadd went to war ...

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