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David Shaw
Poems
Apr 2016
Cross
C
R
C R O S S
S
S
SO
CROSS
I COULD
SPIT CHIPS,
A LEG FELL OFF
‘MY SITTING MAN’
ALL THAT’S LEFT ARE BITS.
SO LET THIS BE A MONUMENT
TO A SCULPTOR’S SECRET DREAMS,
WHAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A MASTERPIECE NOW
LIES IN SMITHEREENS.
Written by
David Shaw
Australia
(Australia)
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