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Bucket Of Tar

Here is a bucket of tar  and a photograph of us dancing on the head of a pin shaped from a cloud already burning away.
I know how angry you are, that you'd love to pour across my border and make me care, but  my bridges are mirrors where magpies scry. 
I know I said things, we both did, with knives and roses in our teeth. I am Eve with an apple in my jaw, for whom God made highways and the will to survive.
Take the tar and make your skin warm again. Travel over yourself to the next natural barrier, listen to the river and toss the photograph in. ______
for The Sunday Muse #117
photograph by the amazing Susie Clevenger

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