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Jacket 21 — February 2003   |   # 21  Contents   |   Homepage   |  Catalog   |

M. F. McAuliffe


The desks have fresh metal scars
the carpet has matte black gashes
and at the bottom of the black, blood,
still-fresh runnels of blood

There is no one in this room.
No one.

The souls have all gone somewhere else,
a parallel place

where blades don’t come from the ceiling
and harvest the things in the chairs

Jacket 21 — February 2003  Contents page
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