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Zimba

Zimba

Zimba is always certain
When and where she walks.

As the outdoor breeze
Settles in lungs
Through a perked nose,
Specks of black hairs
Rise out of dominantly
White eyebrows lifting up
Over puppy eyes
Lit with an inner fire.

Crumpled from infection
Her ears face intriguing sounds
And flank the posture of her
King of the rock.

Her tail curls between legs,
Shaking from heavy tumors,
Only to be suddenly excited,
With a swagger wag, for the
The decomposing food scrap
On the sparkling grime of pavement.

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