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Pirate’s Breath

The graphic squawk of tattoos
ringing a bicep,
blue ink scrambling over ancient scars
Time for more pirate’s breath prose,
a hot sauce thick with
chunks of the unsayable and unacceptable.
A cutlass of metaphor
always out of the belt,
swish slicing the air of conversation,
knuckles rough from salt,
palms scored with rope burn.

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