The gulls still chase me,
heavily. Teeth battered.
my mouth rearranging itself
and you asking what's wrong,
I softly explode like soda
Things I remain certain of include
the cancer I will someday have
Lately, I keep windows open and hope
for birds to fly in. I grind teeth down
to nothing. Picture the daughters
we might have had. Envy the sofa
she sits on now.
The barn still swallows me,
and I still come to it unyielding.
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