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from the May 2006 issue

The Thief

Vladimir (for some reason) made me
We went to the circus together
and watched
the sunrise.
At night I would rest my cheek
on his chest
and dream of snow.
He would read me fairy tales
and make me relish
the bare essentials.
One day I came back and he wasn't there.
(Or perhaps pieces of my skin
were missing.)
Vladimir flayed my feelings
(stole my life)
and ran to catch
the last train
to Russia.

For the next poem in this sequence, click here.

Read more from the May 2006 issue
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