did his work; it was that simple. You want
a sestina, you’re in a rough neighborhood.
A while back I took down a catholic saint
from up the road; by the river, against
a young maple she had her way with me;
before that, sprawled among the presents
beneath the christmas tree, in the bathroom
twice, the kitchen, the shed, the porch,
anywhere to be alone. And
I don’t do end-rhyme.
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