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Brothel Song<br />
Jen Lambert<br />
There is no shape to these violent streets,<br />
blue-black nights, wet face dirty windows.<br />
No outline of my body in this bed,<br />
cloth doll, paper star, hide and seek,<br />
this is how we make a cave, we push,<br />
hollow through stone, carve our own hiding spots.<br />
I will give you a new name. You will call<br />
me fish, and we will never be hungry.<br />
We shed our old skins, the birds in our dresses<br />
become new animals, but we are still<br />
afraid. We can hear the hoof beats. We can<br />
hear the drums. No wax, no wick, no candlelight<br />
in this country, no lamp for these alleys.<br />
I am a window, you are the valley.<br />
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