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LA MADELEINE
A little bite dissolves. It’s a beginning, bait. Involuntarily, I quail, flinch, wince; you quiver. I look for you in my dose of jasmine. Your famously crumbling pastry, your weathered gables. Soot colors the gritty reach of childhood. Longing for petal, leaf, or flower, I am left with stem. |
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