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Barton D Smock
Poems
Jul 2012
the inoculations
‘ghost’ ‘angst’
‘wade’
where one might
‘weep’
he began to kick the place apart in his mind but didn’t finish.
some of the chairs were already down and the tables nailed.
she cut her knees and we said why
‘underwater’
the knife was there and my wrists
were also
‘courtship’ ‘breadbasket’
her face to which the years had not been kind but he could tell
they’d been polite.
I know my mother
‘merestead’
‘mammogram’
I know my mother to be haunted
by a fetus
father took his hell
*to basement
where his food
came up
Written by
Barton D Smock
48/M/Columbus, Ohio
(48/M/Columbus, Ohio)
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