Wild Child

The moon and stars were never enough for her;

For she was the wild child of nature.

Galaxies lurked in the hollows of her collarbones;

The creases on her elbow pit formed origamis–

Depictions of fine arts of exhaustion.

She had the vastness of the blue vault inside her good bones.

So she gulped the moon–whole;

And flowers blossomed inside her secret garden,

Until they replaced the vines of entrapment around her rib cage.

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