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Eurydice She dreams a land heavy with glaciers and quilted in tundra. The girl whose blouse you once reached inside only to find sapphires sewn into the lining. Glance over the fire escape. She lies there shivering, her throat coated in ice, paint chips under her nails, the numbers on her forearm bleeding onto the pavement like watercolor pastels. What she left behind: Whispers of the perfume she wore in school. Patent leather shoes filled to the heel with rosary beads and cocaine. Snowflakes made of construction paper, leading to a music box where red velvet spills the music of Prokofiev. You’ll find her looking for her jewels in the sidewalk cracks. Unaware they are cold in your pocket. |
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