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March 30, 2016 / barton smock

(-)

and what
would forgiveness
do?

my kids were never born. yours

they hide
from the number
of people
god
made.

when dead, I was not
a bird
yet
my mother
asks
what kind.

I can’t tell
by looking
if he’s seen
the future
or seen
the future
again. I strip

when my stomach
hurts.

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