by Renwick Berchild

Her midriff is a rumba, she skims the dance club’s lights, flitty beetle
with a hard shell and the taste of vegemite,

and the musk of a jaguar; of all these people crammed here
she has the strongest bite.

Make way – Make way! She’s heading for the stairs,
we watch her ascend to the stars.

She throws her hair, and we all cheer;
we can’t touch her, she’s a



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