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- Distortions
by Lawrence Upton
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- This one isn't saying much.
She looks out of her risen state, hair still
disarrayed.
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- Sun shows up glistenings of
her scalp. She is not thinking.
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- She is not observed.
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- She comes back from the shop,
stark and naked. I haven't been out all day, she
snaps. She snaps; and then she says she snaps. My
poor bones. She feels her nakedness; she decides
to keep her nakedness; she likes it, her
nakedness, in the large ovoid of herself,
supplied with all the usual and necessary
orifices. Her belly leans her forward. Her
shoulders lean her back. She beholds, ahead, all and
nothing, straightly.
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- I've seen her before: thin as
a shadow, small head on a tall body, moving parts
drawn into or beneath the torso and covered by
folds or flaps of cloth. No one here looks at
anything close up.
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- She leans forward under the
weight of her body, on the balls of her feet,
calf muscles under strain. She feels the roll of
the world. The wind whines flatly. She's so fat
her legs can't close. She tumbles like a
hedgehog, but so lightly she might be windblown.
Breasts swell.Nipples stand out. Hair picks up
dry grass and browning leaves.