Shy crowd that waits for winter
barely any kids. Wind through poplars.
She is still upset about the manger. Years
have past but still there's the question
of power and shunning. She looks most like
the family. The others: mutts. That was
our cat. Remember our primitive kitchen.
Floors tilt against whitewashed walls
beams the color of walnuts. Should I go
throw out the crumbs I've gathered
or should I eat them? Their dog barked
then I found out its name: Corsica.
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