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CHRISTIANA SZCZERBA


Itch


A tangle of
weeds, a
wad of coiled
and knotted

thoughts, raw
and unhealthy like
strands of
hair,

overbleached.
It must be so
apparent. Though
I hide them

as best I can.
Stuffing them into
clothes, to go
to work, or

out with friends.
They must see them.
Sprouting
out of sleeves.