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If you have them,
you won’t be starving –
napkin rings.

Finally got him right,
but now the crow looks
like he’s nodding.

Growing in the night,
the eyes of old

Summer night –
doors that can be locked,
doors that can’t.

Drafty farmhouse -
all the wicks
curve the same way.

Holding hands,
spooked a pheasant,
broke us apart.

Summer in winter –
a hawk feather
in the hay.

Late winter –
the ventriloquist
loses his voice.

Feels foolish
his son’s rattle.

One day too late –
the kittens have gone

the father pretends
to know Orion.

In the window
the farmwife moves
to a different pane.

No one left
to count on
the abacus.

Distracted by love
the mailman
delivers his own mail.

Funeral - brothers
handing back
and forth a flask.

Halloween -
even the scarecrow
gets to be real
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