© 2017 by Elizabeth Odders-White

© Elizabeth Odders-White 2020

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We fold our souls like

paper boxes. Hidden, till

rain-soaked, they unfurl.

Familiar. Presumed

to constrict. Must hide, play small.

Soul shrinks. Heart gets squished.

Shortcomings and shame

sharing every shimm’ring phrase.

Shadow serenade.

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