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Two Prose Poems |
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School He's careful crossing, when he is a man. He will remain in line. And when he is a fish, he swims in a school. I've found his fish stomach. The creek is full of him. How he swishes past the smaller ones, in their fish beds, a destination of fish, a fish among other fish.
I guard him, or else, prepare his agonizing death. My hands are moving. Him. I remember the pictures. It is the dark room. He is in deep water, and my body continues to travel. |
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