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Clandestine

Butterfly, butterfly
Her red ladies in a-waiting
In summer-green, seasand-yellow skins

'Whoooosh! ' of stagnant breath
Between sundae-cherry toes
Like a picnic dress, it rolls in folds

Tiny spiders criss-cross
Into that basket fishook nose
Bridging dragonfly eyes, flat caskets
Laden with cake and honey-candy
Less than sweet and too much salty

And lips
Which crunch like shark teeth.

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