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a poetry blog

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Sun Stays Warm but Keeps to the Side

Foolish to think my clarity
would help when you were sobbing.

You made a face about the tiny frozen
fucking child you have to be
so as not to upset me
then punched
the back of the couch, said
"Look when people feel threatened
that's what they do. They fight back."

Under the brambles to the grass
conspicuous in my lost black hat
I drink coffee like I'm thirsty.

You come back with sipping tequila
and look for the worm. Turn away
a little, then all the way.


2011

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