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The Sling Of Two Arms

I held her not well, didn't
hold her well, jumped
my gaze from one eye to her other,
seeing neither, pinned one
deadwood arm that numbed, then
fell. I held her unwell.

The veneer headboard bent, wavered,
its false grain a-swim like
the clean code on a wave-washed

shell. To not be present is hell -
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7/25/2021 10:04:35 AM # 1.0.0.663