a poem i wrote about a woman named Clandestine


clandestine’s pierced lip
by Tunisia Jolyn

you know that ocean
with the faint smell;
for some sexy reason
people love to dive into.

climate is typically tepid
supplying colonizers comfort
as they get lost of the exotic
imprint photographs of past visitors.

they search for vacant
tequila bottles that hold
extended notes of memory
that always ends with an ellipse.

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