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To Wrinkle
by Jenna Moses To Wrinkle is to create a fold, cause some thing to be imperfect in appearance, in stature, in grace. A blemish on the otherwise smooth face of a woman whose tired eyes cry lines through her cheeks, across her forehead, slither down to decrepit hands that grip desperate onto life but cannot stop the hiss of years wringing out like sheets on a windy day. Life becomes a flat line, which doesn’t look so flat pressed against skin. It is soft, speckled, requesting an iron be taken to perfect the folds.
