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Bloody Mary

By Jerusha Lindsey N


She feels powerful.

Devours the evil within her.


She stands in front of her mirror.

Facing her unbidden recurrence with no fear.


The silent inquietude hangs down her neck.

Foreboding the augury of death.




Gravity in reverse crushed her insides.

She feels like a corpse.


And yet she accepts her beautiful duality as it comes.

Where every woman is a Bloody Mary once a month.


By Jerusha Lindsey N



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