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Dear One

Rating: 5.0

—for Gary Hogan (1964-1992)


A matter of genes this knack
of pulling oneself into a tiny corner
like a sick hound.
'He's no trouble to anyone, '
the finest compliment from an Irish nana.
Regression to famine days
as pale children faded in peat-smoked huts

amid stoic silences and rosaries.
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Thursday, February 28, 2013
Topic(s) of this poem: Suicide
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