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My dearest, Dinosaur, push out breath.
Staple your chest. Twice filter air into lung.
Smoulder like a chimney with a hole ash to ash.
I slept. Each grainy piece of you, a signal
drawing down a neatly unbuckled breast.
I sang gravity. Balance an armadillo
with steel skin often colored grey
under the pre-dawn morning’s breath. I sighed.
Your thighs baked and chapped, strained
like a tie pulled too thin. I ate greasy treats.
You forage for the predictably scattered
among evening dews. Hungry fingered
claws circle around to feel cartilage at each bend.
Sewage or flesh? Recycle with bites. Undress.
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