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Poetry

To take a little Sunday stroll
along a bed of burning coals
she’s asked to slip off her high heels,

but she strips off her clothes instead,
and, once naked, shaves her head.
Though flesh can tread

a path of fire,
and faith may imitate desire,
to demonstrate conviction

belief requires contradiction—
she lives life like a soul,
immortal and inflammable.

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The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

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