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By Quang Pham

It goes like this:

A no-kneed prince.

A six-fingered sorcerer.

And a princess who plays A

round of Twister

Atop a porcelain spire.

And the prince is stunned

After arduous rise

To find his lady all spun In

knotted-limb binds.

How outrageous!

Why, at a time like this?

I can explain, she cries, from her

Dual-elbow twist.

But for princely perceptions There

is no need.

Now forward he goes At

royal-steed speeds

For the Grand Prix, a skyline race Noble

non-knees then topple base.

With whirlwind fists

To Earth, they go.

Fingers flailing.

Thrashing toes.


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