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February 17, 2017 / barton smock

untitled

easy on the eyes, her parents
invisible

in the white-haired dream of stroke’s snowfall

her other, the apple-diver gone AWOL from the priesthood

her twin, tapped out
of being
born

the grey bullfrog
god of her brother’s
swollen
neck

what else

a fat kid
hearing
how he won’t
hang himself,

a sleeping bag
puking
on the topmost
stair

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