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The color of Dusk

When I was a child
I wanted to tell the angels
invisible in their gossamer dresses
to shake loose the kernels of meaness
from my tormentor's heart
and feed them to the pigeons
with purple breasts that
hung out in the shady churchyard.

I wanted to reach into the sky
and eat the color of dusk
for I was sure that I would 
turn into something
graceful and shimmering
as beautiful as the moon;

not ready to believe that
I was forever trapped 
in this deformed body
my useless legs hanging,
not about to run anytime,
anywhere soon.

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