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Lung’s Dusk

By Jamie Grefe

The skin valley of her gutted stomach: Spidery fingers. A sprawling mass of unspeakable wonder: Beast. Gill slits on neck and fur like sour eggs. The porcelain sink. Canine intensity: pointed ears, brown hair, sticky skin. Muscles grope at the floor. Angel nub. Splintered thorns prick tiny holes in skin where blood trickles. From the bathroom to the other side of dusk. Young lungs constrict. She says, rejoice.

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