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Hands over the rose of Sharon as payment,
voucher
The turgid yellow flower that began as bud
Became a tumor burgeoning on its stem
A pallid thing aberrant amongst the crowd
drawing near
Pointing at his skin how it does what it does
The life of it ruddy wound opening, closing
The sky rent its saints disbanded
Loosed from their casement
One by one
His body its partition of bone
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