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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Mar 2022
Fifty ways to lose your liver.
She,
wraps me around her little finger,
bends time to suit her and
marks her patch with a scratch
it's natch, she says,
now
I haven't heard the word natch used for donkey's years
and I'm wondering just how old she is.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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