Dead Parachutes

She is a Nubian dandelion
She dances on whiskers of dreaming men.
Her voice changes with the shape of each ear.
Thousands of birds shed feathers
Disturbing reflections of her mind’s
pond.

She is a Nubian dandelion
Her hands are soapy with dishwater.
Wind takes away every desire.
Drinking freckled lemonade
The Nubian dandelion is a maid.

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