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Sip Me Autopsy

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“Lay down Sally.” Outside, the kudzu, hung
the goiter of the bayou. Swallowing two
lovers whole. Naked we lay on the cold
sheets. Fingers tracing lips…
sweet taste of tea. “Sip me,” you whisper,
“as if performing an autopsy, to my pelvis
and the caul between my thighs.” As if
bacon grease, it dripped while I sopped
her biscuit.

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