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EULOGY

A girl in my sister's house

wears nightmare

hidden in her eyes

still as a bird's eyes.

When blood calls

the girl retreats into a brassy ring

that neither tears nor nourishment

can alter.

But a circle does not suffer

nor can it dream.

Her fingers twist into a married root

night cannot break her now

nor the sun heal

and soon its merciless white heat

will fuse

her nightmare eyes

to agate

her sullen tongue

to flint.

Then she will strike

but never bleed again.