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sandra wyllie
Poems
Feb 2021
A Fine Tooth Comb
cannot remove the mats
and tangles of this life. The prongs
are broken on the pulls. The knots
are raging as the bulls. The handle’s
broken off. It wasn’t a quarter
the cost. So, you cut it off,
like you did as a child. But the tattered
splits make you look wild.
Written by
sandra wyllie
56/F
(56/F)
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