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The Company of Others

a pattern emerges: I flatten myself, turn sharp corners—make edges out of elbows, knees, ankles, wrists. Fingers crack with a tap. I fold my head to my chest, chest to my waist, waist to my knees, knees to ankles, and ankles to feet— A collapsing woman, taciturn mouth, gossamer skin stretched over dead eyes searching, and starving for reclusion.

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