Ode to the Soap
CLEAN
in one thousand milligrams
filling the vestibule
to my innards
of nothing
and the far-away
The manufactured mystery
muted,
fluxed,
tenuous silence
swallowed by echoes
The child
in white innocence
makes irridescent globes
to float;
to fall;
to dry-
a layer thinner
half coalesced
into flesh
In bitter lather
the final film slides
down the
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:)
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