about poems or writing poems,
they tumble from the tummy easy-
like, which is weird because
both my kids were ripped and torn
from me like MacDuff was
from his mom. Maybe they'll
be cops, or thespians, when grown.
Also, people talk about
language like it has its own
address, somewhere foreign but
recognizable, like
Canada. I don't get
it. Language is like skin
or air. Wear it. Breathe it in.
It matters when it keeps us here.
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