your voice. hands
shaken up
like some space
filling in the blankness
of anger. caught
hesitant,
or in silence call
me your
perfect pair of jeans,
call me
so i can hang
up on your misused
trust. gang up
because i
hate your gun-crazy
you know how hard i try
to keep a room clean,
to keep
your blood tight--
i begin
to imagine your body/another
country so hard until
it breathes like writing
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