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St. Christopher
I wandered around
after Tim shot himself
in the basement,
the place where
we made out and
watched monster movies
after high school dances.
“I like you,” he had said.
“But I...
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Spade
Seeking garden-depth,
he worked from dawn to
soilful night on two knees
torn with age and troubling
thoughts of roots misplaced,
forgotten-lost in the sly coin
unfound within time’s hands
now...
