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Barton D Smock
Poems
Jan 2015
arc
between my mother
and her paper
cup
I’ve heard tell
that even sorrow
has a life.
father yells
at dogs, at the necessary
born, at me
in the mirror
to turn
around
get someone
can clean
this up. father calls
light
the unspilled
blood
of the god
we're in. he suffers on his path
the suppressed
amnesia
of faghood. being gay
has long been
being open
to the possibility
he’s not.
Written by
Barton D Smock
48/M/Columbus, Ohio
(48/M/Columbus, Ohio)
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Azaria
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