Enter Home Planet News Poetry of Issue #6                         Page 58
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job never died

born in a funeral home 
full of speechless friends 
I walked in the dark, 
rubbed each body, 
applying make-up even 
to men. my life
was dressing the dead.
I took off my clothes 
and put them on them. 
some of the dead said
no until mice made them

  Lørpsliç Bierkegårt