barbwire horses
and red windows painted gold
the feeling of a ciggerette
stuck to your lips in the cold
clouded winter moons
and the summer sky
the breeze on your back porch
reminded me of every lie
the secret tellings of missletoe
the rosmary leaf bubbling
in the watery stew
lights that flicker when you turn them on
old box fans that need a spin to start
wood
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