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Us

Each of us,
Sixty percent water,
Oil-spill soft oceans
Sloshing in skin.
 
Stick your hand in the fire,
For carbon,
For me.
We are Prometheus’s people.
Carried by a flame in a fennel stalk,
Hearts pulsing in a steady waltz.
 
Every one of us a tiny bit arsenic.
Cherry stones and apple cores.
Bitter to touch.
All built up of cells and constellations
Porous like fake Louis Vuitton.
 
We’re brokered from silver and nitrogen
and
and
oxygen
tiny deep breaths.
Blinks.
 
Venomous and beautiful
Infinite
Human.
 
Us.
By Mei Kawagoe

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