For Breslin...
a maiden sings
her voice voluptuous in the
New Yorkic air,
carving architectural masterpieces
from jealous tension.
Though a bit monstrous.
Dream-like
(Not at all dreamy,
like the boys walking
shirtless
down fifth avenue.)
Beastly Meryl returns
to her rooftop garden
surmounted by cupolas
ledning an oriental appearance.
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