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She chirps songs out through birds' beaks.
She pulls off the pale blanket and puts on her
dress, which is beaded by budding flowers,
and swirls around in it.
Some blossoms come loose and
scatter about the grass.
She rakes her hand through her hair
and in her palm she cradles leaves;
and she stitches them to the nude trees for warmth.
Her sweat sprinkles the ground, and in its place,
seedlings grow.


She wears her cerise bikini,
lounging in a plastic beach chair and
feet digging into the crunchy sand.
She keeps a hungry eye out for any
light-beaten guys worth her time.
And while watching, she notices
that the sun seems to be playing
longer than promised.
So she steals thunder and
hands it to the clouds,
who fight with the sun,
and their sweat drips down
on her.


She feels beautiful,
and decides to take off the chromatic leaves.
One piece by one piece,
it floats to the ground and
makes a delicate layer of color.
She isn't shy now,
as she sways
and dances to the serenades
playing between blades of grass,
and the breeze blows through her,
breathing life into her body.


The air carries icicles
that sink into her veins.
Her bones are glossed in ice,
and she can't bend over
to pick up her clothes.
The cold buries itself
in her skin, cooing lullabies in her ears;
it blankets her in soft whiteness
as she falls asleep.