it doesn’t action

Page


see here, I don’t even recall
the war
though it goes on every day, probably
the way
arthritis does for worn  out ladies.
The war – it – doesn’t action, you see.

more like it sits, maybe, I don’t know,
like a spikey nail
                              at our dinner table

who in your family holds
the seat of the end table

                        and orange
juice spills from some fractured
decanter into our plates, our spread




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