A certain kind of logicA Poem by eglantineI imitate mirrored corners to understand the movement of speech. Vowels taste like grapes and oranges; they rot before I break the skin with my satin-white teeth.
I've stubbed my toe on consonants at least once each time I dance on the burned crust of the sun and if I could, I'd cup my hand to the moon's lips and exhale my heart into its damp and stoic core. © 2012 eglantineFeatured Review
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19 Reviews Added on July 10, 2012 Last Updated on July 10, 2012 |

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