Her yellow shirt clings to her brown skin as
her luck clings to itself. She is thinking about the expression:
"cling fast", the way "fast" is used, as if holding on
is something that happens quickly.
Her ache sits still
between her belly and her thighs
Her laughter hangs from her chin
like spit. Braids crawl
her back like spiders, tickle
her skin like laying in the grass.
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