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I STAND by Joe Volpe

I stand (a flower

dripping rain off petals

to roots

 

as we hang the man who

built the gallows, and

 

I bite my fist to save

my tongue) an emotional

 

amputee, sifting the sky

for someone to rely on

or at least someone

to blame stopped

 

in the middle of the street,

brain tangled

like cold sheets

gazing

like a gravestone

feeling gloriously temporary.

 

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