ant5

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the south side

of the pine needle

burnt

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pouring rain

loudest in

the kitchen

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the month

of white blossoms

our operations

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downpour

the air opaques

into gray

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her ear

smells like

pencil lead

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before they dissolve

the pills hatch

a plot

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blossoms pelted

by rain already

they’re blueberries

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unstained by age

paper at the back

of the pad

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tulip

days

are here

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my body

contracts

grammatically

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