but beauty is a living roomin a warehouse. It lies in glass housesmeasured in square footage. Beauty is but a birdSilk screened, “only ninety-nine,ninety-nine.” My art is the pain in touch, sanctitySucked from the popeScreaming. It feels likeraw chicken,eats like my loversate me, so feed it. by Brittney Blystone  Brittney Blystone studied creative writing in the United States at Northern Kentucky University and in…

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