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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Aug 11
Holy smokes.
Here in Santiago
where I often go
for
forgiveness
from his holiness
it's hot,
not that it worries me
and that's odd
because
most thing bother me
but not this.
There are heirlooms
that are used daily
and dusted weekly
because
the butler left
without notice
except
I noticed
and now
I have to
beg forgiveness again
for
cursing him.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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