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Poem: "The Artist" 

The Artist

Hold those darts
—steady—
ready to let them loose.
I wear these balloons,
filled with crayon-colored dreams
and syrupy acrylic aspirations,
to burst over my canvas skin.
Pop as many as you wish.
But don't you worry
about my heart;

Small
—punctured—
red stains
my breast
but one more
hole
will not kill me.

—Courtney Kiesecker

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