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Not without a by-your-leave

not without a long-form courtesy

don’t leave the table

not for deluge or turgor

not till I ease my spleen

of greenish blue blood

of ochre red bilirubins

billy goat hungry white cells

my blood speaks Elizabethan

king’s rubbish

five generations of us in Pittsburgh

own their fenced plots in Pennsylvania

we died civilian patriots

at the town’s best rest home

you will be dumped in Potter’s Field

you were invited


to see how Brahmins are

you lucky stranger

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Published in issue 5


Published in issue 5


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