ant5

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the knife

rests well on

the chipped plate

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the gates

and doors

you can’t see

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the cat and I

both know he didn’t

make that sound

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noises change

their own

volume

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between two drips

a chair

on the patio

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overdressed

one cloud

shows up

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still flat

under the rug

beetle

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they don’t

have a name

for the day before

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save one

bean for

this poem

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waylaid by

the courtyard

again

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