extremity
the virgin boy is waiting for it to dry, it
being
the puppet’s
toothbrush. his lover
a practitioner
of moral sadness
knows the body as a representation
of surgeries none perform
and the future
as historically
inaccurate. where we’ve met before
I’ve narrowed down
to isolation. was there I last lost mother
with her hacksaw and chair
dreamily approaching
a tire swing
as if the human voice
on any land
letting go
of god
could raise
a tree.
kingsoftrain 
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