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short poetry  short fiction  short, uh, art

 

     
  Victoria Clayton Munn

Looking Without Seeing


 


A broken moth
wrinkled and gray
has landed on my sofa.

He seems over-large
body striped with brown
giving off a scent of fear.

I'd pick up and set him free
but he's not living at all
as I draw closer I can tell -

the gigantic Amazon insect
huddled in our little home
is just your underwear.
 

 

 

 

o

 


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