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Barton D Smock
Poems
Jan 2015
short work
I pull them on
as the pair of gloves
I haven’t worn
around a baby.
I hear
behind me
(in the voice of someone
imaginably
younger
than those
who make
short work
of god)
a stone
being named
repeatedly.
*** is both
the girl
and where
she was bitten.
Written by
Barton D Smock
48/M/Columbus, Ohio
(48/M/Columbus, Ohio)
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