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The river of scarlet

spills onto my open palm,

and I cradle it

in the other hand.

Shock morphs into number fascination.

The flap, unhinged,

Unfurled like a door,

invites the ruby parishioners

to leave, flow

Go forth, pool in the lines

of my rigid hook.

I stare, head tilted,

wondering if now

is the time for a bandage.

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