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Of Late

I have my bed and I have my blanket    she says 

slim tree    blue spruce 

so old she    reads the board:    Today

 is Sunday    lurch (for lunch)    snap (for snack) 

sky bled    a month ago    another friend’s 

blood seeped into his brain he would not 

wondering if you could come a little bit later    he 

as if there were nothing 

cup    she says    this is my 

voice-mail    a month ago 

gate shall be shut, it shall not 

cold, and the little bonfires