Naomi Replansky

N
Naomi Replansky
In Syrup
In syrup, in syrup,
In syrup we drown,

Who sell ourselves
With a sparkling smile.

Padded with pathos
Our winding sheet.

The bomb bounded
By buxom beauties.
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Ring Song
…When that joy is gone for good
I move the arms beneath the blood.

When my blood is running wild
I sew the clothing of a child.

When that child is never born
I lean my breast against a thorn.

When the thorn brings no reprieve
I rise and live, I rise and live.
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