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Shimmer
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Shimmer by F.W. Morris

From the edge of the room I whisper her name.
She lays limp on the mattress
spread. Her skin, shimmering and white.
 
Earlier, through the window- neon flickered
Vacancy, over her pale breasts.
Her dark eyes unfamiliar, but not
 
until the first sigh pushed
through her lips,
did I realize you were gone.

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I suppose you want me to tell you what he looks like. It's hard for me to remember looking at him as a person whose body I didn't know, a person I'd never seen without his clothes on. Thinking about his hair right now, what I'm focusing on is what his hair is like as I'm looking down on it when his head's between my legs.
 
--Mary Gordon