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Sunken Garden Poetry Festival


Little Girl


Little Girl twirled,
arms wide     like wings
cheeks full     like the shoulders of clouds
and
she flew in on her
fuschia parka and Mary-Janes and gaudy costume beads
until
Mr. Stranger
with
void, vacant eyes and
empty chest cavity
hissed at her:
     Stop, sit down.
     You are silly.
And
Little Girl blushed,
big and wide and deep,
and thought
to herself;
     Stop, sit down
You are
     not beautiful.



Sarah Myers
Used with permission



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