Zarah Butcher-McGunnigle

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(But it is true when one believes it)

For many months we were mouths. Just at or below a level of discovery, deliberately turning away from the view. In colour she felt nothing, she could do nothing but lie. But it is true when one believes it. This grub eats only the edges of leaves. That’s the way I am, or that’s the way it is. Relevant to deep creases captured by etiquette. I closed my leaves and orphans. But the entrance remained after nobody noticing and remembering venom is modified saliva. I was going to say something, or pray, but that wouldn’t take up my whole life.

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