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Rend

Michael J. McClure

Watch me I put my fist in my mouth because I can.
Oh, humiliated, you should do something with your mouth.
My doctor said that. He was stained up his chin.

I dress like a Christmas tree for a reason.
My doctor said. He had peachstrands clumped on his chin
and looking almost bloody. I nearly started crying.

I love you are you my airline ticket?
My jaw is sore at where it connects, please
talk back to me. I hear you breathing

your breath reminds me of tissue paper.
The thin drone you make when you sleep it nearly
breaks itself on darkness. And when you talk in light

I think it will be colored. Put your hand out I have
something to place in it. Please talk. Put your
hand out. Listen and if you start talking we can leave.

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