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Unknown.
A glimpse of a doorway, all turned out.
 
The park;
the heat, the sand, the noise.
Famine -
Food. Famine -
Food. Famine -
 
Escape? Bought by the red dot.
Liberty in a small silver box.
 
Then the rush: the revolving door spins-up;
the cold light, table, air;
the soft scarf, voice, plush.
Rest -
Again the rush:
the sharp needle, scalpel, news;
the warm car, streetlights, look.
 
Rushed in, doors close, one opens.
Home.

Other works by Chloe Alice...



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