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silkworms
by Ranyah Khan
The tiny seeds of morality melted
Into a crochet of other minute foundations
that thread together into a tapestry of a human
made from little wires of silk that were stretched out of the grand anus’ of forgotten worms
Which your mother then knit together with slow, idling hands
repositioning each piece as she lay it
and you held her scarf with a bloated heart and wore it as a crown
while street merchants puked out hundreds of pieces just the same
in minutes
with empty heads
About the Author
Ranyah is an emerging writer from Delaware.
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