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January 2, 2020 / barton smock

from ( diets of the resurrected )

Sorrow a glove. Grief a mitten. I see in fire the small

for a whale
whale
that my son
saw
in a wave.

Ohio gets to keep its hidden season. Poverty

its sixth
finger.

Childish, but everyone who’s looked out this window has died. Our family was too close.

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