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L Maughan Sep 2019
Smuggled through nocturnal talks
in shredded shadows split in strips
of mother’s bits her pockets kept
the bleak concerns he always kept
his father’s feet and staggered talk
sheets playing out across the strips
of comatose in comicstrips
submerged in worlds he never kept
of garbled words and gargled talks
talk pealed in strips of what he kept.

— The End —