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Daydream

Back of the classroom is
a shadowy place, flickering
edges and flimsy images-
one, two, three, four, gone
again.

Five, six, seven, eight,
fingers digging deeper, harder,
tracing angelically- angel’s
bruises.

Chanting, what you don’t know
will never hurt you, what you know
stays forever, a lie, a fat, goose plump
lie

A hundred ways to say NO gather force,
while fingers press harshly,
rib after rib.
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