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December 23, 2015 / barton smock

inaccuracies

knowing
I will soon
go soft
on spiders
my mother
crushes
an egg
to keep it
she says
from choking (father

he brains the head of what god could not squeeze into (brother

invents
a dead
sister
and with her
laments
the loss
of the throwing
arm

that now
predicts
the rain

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