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I have arrived. I am home.
I am clay. Shape me. Press me.
I arrive and feel thumbprints, a potter’s wheel spinning on its axis. Meet a stone on the street, I will swallow it. Smooth—weighted–past my lips. Esophagus clenches. Take it down. You have pressed heavy gold coins deep into my firm. I carry them. I carry you. I lift myself.
I am repulsive. I am radiant. Push your fingers into my body and out my buoyant heart.
I am clay. Shape me. Press me.
My self, She is box-shaped. I am made to hold your treasure. Place your ball of thread, your brass lungs, your purple-bruised eyelids into me. I am the moment before a breath. I am a glint of lemon sun. Do not look at me. I can only be tasted. I carry these things within and surround. I carry them. I carry you.
I have arrived. Shape me.
By: Alina Pontius[/box]