Poem Sort

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12 August 2012

Inside Out

May I offer my insides
warm muscle
grisly tangles
gooey wounds.

May I open myself up
like a treasure chest
or an open heart surgery
or a game of Jumanji
or a stubborn clam
or a hoarder's bedroom closet
or a sudden bottle of champagne.

May I scoop out my heart
and cradle it in two hands
May I give myself away
without leaving
an empty shell?

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