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WELCOME TO
Iris Esquivel
She-Lord
Words drip off my tongue like a hungry dog
At your porcelain toes I whimper
Soliloquies, all of which you've heard before
Your legs crossed indefinitely you ask me for a glass of water and I stand only to hand you my bowl
Watching you drink, thoughts of children float through my mind
How lucky they should be to possess those lips!
Without looking down you toss what's left on the floor
Oblivious to the salivating beast at your bedside
Lapping your waste off the ground
And yet, maybe not so.
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