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| First words catch impressionable shadow
off-guard. Delusion�s fancy-woman sighs, �just love me.� Dusty veil jades years, feeds rueful dark on waste. Stone wall bids her flirt subdued in shade, learn to beg scant ease at pining table. Her shape, a finger puppet skinned alive, is comely though removed from touch of hand or eye that says, �please love me,� dances to spilled flesh and hollow wax, sad pleasure�s wane. Tonight her shadow fancies building fires, removing veils. |
| *image: Jack Spencer |