What a generous survey! It encounters us, sideways,
Breath fogging the candied windows:
We may not be wise, the way you think of people.
But honey splits from us like we were hive-cox,
And our skin blooms like the brilliant bits of our
Yards
Whenever our dogs pass through;
We say to ourselves, "Okay, now I get it,
Look at what this sarcasm of light
Surrounds you
To change."
Abigail
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