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Barton D Smock
Poems
Aug 2017
we brought home the wrong dying baby (iv)
mother and father give their word that all narrators are orphans. that blood is a short leash. sometimes, a fence. be, they say, the symbol your god remembers you by. tell your brother to act like a chicken. your stickmen to share a toothache.
Written by
Barton D Smock
48/M/Columbus, Ohio
(48/M/Columbus, Ohio)
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