Wren of a girl in a gauze dress
tramps the wilderness
in the wry company of words
Beauty queens of boiler plated armor
serve her up on beds of ridicule
They ache and dine
on emptiness
to party out their feigned desire
In this age
a poet swathed in muslin
could be hallowed
but the paparazzi shutters
find her not
Diminutive Ms Dickinson
slips between
the misted evergreens
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