Klockmann For Ruth If there were a god he would have made you
ground your belly into which he blows air with mouth and bellows stemmed your bleeding and slid you tethered to a belt or chain to a cool place in the oven the knight is the only chess piece with eyes its manes are straight as bones and fins its muzzle reaches for the bishop’s groove the king’s cross the rook and pawn the ball on the queen’s hat but god becomes land consolidation macaroons or anodized the ten-cent coin the sea stars step up the fair the wheel of the watermill not quite underwater the whiskers of an otter jewels of a human being bathing and drying.
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