end of the world, again

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I am plucking socks
Like some pick apples
Or earlier in the year
Ripe sour cherries

my face is not as red
but my kiss is as sweet
and sour forcing grins,
potency must count
for something

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LeBrozLeBrozover 16 years ago
~~

This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 38,000 poems.

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