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…ceans. Paints your aqua skin, paper-thin, bleached by morphine. Daubs the bruised greys for coma. I make a work of art of my mourning. But no matter how I mix the colours, I can’t portray the leach of chemotherapy in your veins, the ruthless atrophy of cells. No colour for the tumour, lodged deep in your brain like an unsolvable riddle. I resist the title, b…
Melissa Coffey
Jenine Bsharah Baines
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Oh Melissa. Gorgeous evocation of pain
J…Jen…Jeni…Jenine... Proper names are poetry in the raw. (W.H. Auden) Poet, singer, seeker, hippie grandmother gleefully revealing herself
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