ant5

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fog seems

to emanate from

the birch

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tears in the paper

turn it into

a map

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barest of pear

buds enveloped

by ice

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tendrils of bread

hold on to

the knife

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in the dark

rich with

salt

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on closer

inspection

there are thorns

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floating eggs

we say

goodbye

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in the drawer

the knives switched

places with the forks

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ketchup

loves

America

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wizened winter

apples worms

for the hens

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