
I am a lake which killed its banks: from the elbow to the hand the stitches
don’t stop my words’ childbirth. And I put a crest on all the “A” so they can serve
you well in the day you forgot of how many letters is composed by my flesh.

Posted by Emilia Filocamo on Jan 19th, 2012 and filed under Poetic Prose, Poetry.
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I am a lake which killed its banks: from the elbow to the hand the stitches
don’t stop my words’ childbirth. And I put a crest on all the “A” so they can serve
you well in the day you forgot of how many letters is composed by my flesh.
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Beautiful work, Emilia.