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Barton D Smock
Poems
Mar 2015
incarnate
after we roll the dead dog from its towel and into god’s mouth
we take
for its tooth
a fly’s
grave.
satan’s kid continues to play chicken with a farm machine
in a slow
not still
life.
Written by
Barton D Smock
48/M/Columbus, Ohio
(48/M/Columbus, Ohio)
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