30 Poems in 30 Days

I imagine all southern girls,
Smell like peaches and kiwi fruit,
To keep hold of the memory of their great-grandmother’s pies in the windowsill,
And their longing for far away lands,
Respectively
The girls’ hair, Spanish moss,
Dripping, curled and wild off their tan scalps, thriving,
A life of their own
White lines on the hidden parts of their bodies,
Like archaic borders
Separating light from
The darkness

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