felt for the
printmaker:
quasimodo
yanked the chain
and I came flying
the press between us
hurt my thigh,
I licked
my bleeding dry
he placed his plate -
perfectly
lined every corner up
caressed the paper
softly softly
and straightened almost out
by the time
he brought me to the bed
my skin was all aflame
I hugged his effort fiercely
embossed my being with his cut
impatiently
got tossed aside
to check the lino out
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