poem in which she unfolded

& each part / separate / began to live /

there was a satin rage/ in the deepest part/ those romantic ins & outs of her / a
luxurious house for the last excess / of a sumptuous evening / which carried her off into
the darkness / half-undone /

she felt the pressing mouths of shadows / until something like morning /& found herself
so altered /& infinitely more

Lauren Vevers

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