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Bottles

Alycia Steck '25


I could sell my moniker in bottles 


For five quarters and a dime, but for you 


My name is a gift I slip in your palm. 


Each bottle a present to make amends. 


Everything I possess is in bottles, 


Imprisoned within these crystal borders. 


Alycia is spirit, a trickle


Of mirth. I watch you sip these pure, distilled, 


Forever obscured liquid syllables.


My name is a medley that once bound me.




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