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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Nov 2020
When Tuesday calls
Thinking that
a cold shower on the hour every hour
might be the cure.
Waking in a sweat yet again.
Through the roar of turbine dreams
where every breath is written on the
very moments sent to fill me,
I only breathe because she wills it so
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
67/Here and now
(67/Here and now)
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