pinch
mother
as she
unrolls
a tube
of toothpaste
talks
of a crack
in the lord
these empty
things
I’d rather
they not
look it
take your father’s
drag racing
or a fork
with you
when you bathe
I was scraped, she says
your cheek
to me
a wounded
dream…
it doesn’t last
the prophet’s
grief
kingsoftrain 
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