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A blinding

A blinding Jane Dougherty I lock the door; the wind blows black this night through teeth locked in a rictus. Bitter glow of broken moonlight bathes the restless trees. Against the birds tossed dark and angry from the north sky, clacking bone curse in their beaks, I lock the door. The wind blows black this night. Key rattles in the lock, by unseen hand is turned. I have no will to move, and plead through teeth locked in a rictus. […] Continue Reading

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