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PATHOLOGY SONNET


Julia Ciesielska



standing at eggs
 sizzling in a frying pan
 I utter some lyrics
 he throws his head back
 grins then whispers that rude word
 crease cuts itself into my forehead
 there is a shopping bag in the corner
 which I dare not to open
 limp into toilet
 not eyeing myself in mirror
 with tight clipped nails that once
 knew a glamour touch of varnish
 I finger marriage cracks
 camouflaged for years
 quick bow to rinse the face
 brings back a courage
 me refreshed, grab and toss a shopping bag
 give out for spending my money









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