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Lady Linen


When I got the fitted sheet

to slip around the mattress corners

creaseless and smooth was the first time

I felt like a woman.

I fed the pillow into its sleeve like

my brain wrapped in floral linen

and thought about the hundreds of times

I’d seen my mother make my bed

perfectly, just had to lie in it /

die in it /

mattress / sheet / doona

holy trinity that a woman

ought to swear by.

I’m not saying my road

is the domestic one, I’m saying

I wish I didn’t feel so accomplished

with a bedsheet.

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Giovanni groggily sat up in his wheelchair. He had fallen asleep again. He gripped the inner wheel as he pushed himself along the sterile hallways. The hallways were so familiar they appeared even in


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