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Lefthanded poems

birchsmall

Clovis Ane, a lefthanded poet:

Old woman

Brush yer tooth

and get in here with me

The fire is in me.

Shoeless under a sawhorse desk with a whitewashed door and a facetglass knob, worked up in a rear bedroom away from morning sun. A draughtman’s pencil, wormwood liquor. This one finished. No one to guess what dreams in that cloudy startled eye.