Itza Wildin flew
right off rails
bucking under
restraint hanging
swinging breasts
crack her heart
a hairsuit crabbed
together unspeakable
long known wounds
ignored
Itza Wildin lumbers
when not flying
as if slowness
saves a moment
if not a day
pretending
stillness shines
buttercups new
blown
as if plain light
were enough
until it is
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