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Buried Girl
by JoSelle Vanderhooft

Beneath
tattering trees,
the tangled moon,
she unravels
like October:
flesh away from fingers,
tendons spool-tight,
white skull grinning
stars and carroway;
under branch-net shadows,
under grey beard loam
she sleeps worms,
exhales wet compost,
dreams silk cocoon
and spinning wheels

Overhead
sky spins with her
-- dry dandelion seeds
before the wind.

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