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A review by hannahvwarren
The Atheist Wore Goat Silk: Poems by Anna Journey
"She sleepwalks
through the museum in her swamp-
colored dress, her red hair
tangled like the year, like three
and a half--her arms
darken, her scarred
back still mapped."
through the museum in her swamp-
colored dress, her red hair
tangled like the year, like three
and a half--her arms
darken, her scarred
back still mapped."