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Salvation VendorTo Glenn Smith's previous piece


stale charms puddle
in watchful repose
across a trite sofa.

her sallow sails
of spent flesh
furl loosely
from upper limbs.

a nocolor nightdress
years too short
barely covers
concave thighs.

lazy meat tears
fall across counted ribs
while sad air reeks
of antique grapes
and dead refrigerators.

a thirsty decade
past legal,
her peeking belly wilts
like a spent condom.

"I know you want me
she regards my shrieking eyes
and along her shoulders
red spiders blush.
I can't forget
the long twitch
of her frowning navel.

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