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From Eric Gamalinda:

April 26, 2018

In this country there are no nouns.
Those are the rules.
There is no body.
There is no kiss.
There is no sex.

There is only what if I touched you here.
There is only right where I want it most
but closer, stickier, and more desperate,
before we remember all the names we’ve eaten …
before we remember how to be born,
our hunger hard as a pearl
and whispering, only whispering.

– Uqbaresque

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