The Friend

 written by Stephanie Heaven-Terry


The otter,
downy hairs, pierced cheeks
sleek as silver shears
and ears soft as bleach water.

The friend,
She recites Hamlet, “I knew him!”, laughing
It looks you dead in the eyes,
Exhales dust.

The otter,
Poses by old tomes and tufts of parchment
likely to be just printer paper 
and collects scabs

The otter,
has porous hollows, screeching in thirst.
Marrow like old sponge.
Gentle cracks.

The otter,
sings a dull note when knocked
and even more satisfying when broken.

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