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Elegy
Near the end of my journey,
the sky rains rusty gold, grains from
heaven cleanse my earthy pores
—Bites of crimson filth spread
a plague of exhausted stars
I let them devour in glee—
I am no longer attached to my
physical form; In the eyes there were
too many deaths—
azaleas, sandcastles, and rosy dreams
The air scrapes off
sin, along with skin and the mess underneath
I can barely see myself—the porcelain blue
peeks through the silhouette of my toes
I feel feathery—
At the end of my journey blossoms
a field gently sprinkling pink
Copyright ©
Jasmine Tsai
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