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She sways, shifts,

a hunch the current follows.

Chagrined, it sifts the shirt,

the camisole, the effortless hair.

(Earring tangled there, gold crustacean.)

She is a slow, sunken spin, slow sweep below. Silt-

stroked eyes. Silt-stroked tongue. The inlet of her

mouth, silt-stroked teeth.

Silt

Soraya Peerbaye

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