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listen once. notice. it goes like this:

there are days when i see the world
constantly in motion. clouds skittering
across mirrored buildings like crazed
paramecia; a funnel cloud of small black
birds; silver snaking down collarbones

there are days i am intoxicated by my
smell. spend hours with my nose nestled
in the crook of my wrist, turning my head
to breathe the scent of my hair

but mostly my days are black and white
photographs i watch while waiting for
dreams of technicolor bruises, blooming
greens and blues centered round purples
edged in yellow. full length movies unwinding
manic in my remembrance

silent and scentless.

      — katrina grace craig