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cover art Poems from the Other Land by Ruth Mark
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T h e   F u r i e s   L i v e

They aren’t some historical,
mythological creatures. You
find them some nights in
our marriage bed when
frustration boils the lid off the
pot and all the buried pain,
anyway come spilling out
a swarm of wasps insistent
teeth finding soft skin.


First appeared in The Sentinel Poetry Quarterly, June 2005

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