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Dear Fickle Judge
Politely, thank you for engaging me
But transform myself?
No, thank you
Leap for me, like a bullfrog under a blood moon in the heart of Guatemala
Sing for me, like a gilded bird in a Tiffany bell jar
Make three hurdles, five sprints, and nine squats into a banana sundae
Thrill me, bleed words for me
Knock on my attic window where I study alone, find and echo me
No More, No Less
I will continue to respire with ragged lungs
A breath is presence
It knows nought but its own truth
It lingers to meet the crowd
It passes
Copyright ©
Payge Terner
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