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Marcella's Fantasy HouseTo Don Winter's previous piece     Saturday Night DesperateTo Don Winter's next piece

What's Left

She had a body
that had been
a few places
and only come back
from some. They'd take
what was left
around the corner
and fuck it
backwards or
inside out
and return it
to be sold again,
until the ghost of herself
would go from barstool
to that blazing, festive
emptiness, break up
the party,
snub out the cigarettes,
carry the wine glass
to the kitchen
and tell whomever
goodnight, goodbye,
and take what was left
of the body
vaguely home
and lie down beside it
in dark
and quiet bed.

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