Three Poems


Stain


The seep and clot of it. The furtive fingers of it. The

blob and spread of it. The orgy of it. The impossible

to remove of it. The stand-in for something else of it.




Test


our soft lead pencils filling in ovals the dulled points

darkening choice after choice




Suitcase


I hear it whispering, Can’t wait to leave.

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