your awkward viking
storefront doesn’t scare me
nor does the pitter-patter of
the women’s feet
scampering like cats behind
your alley
the lopsided warnings of your
trucks
their gleaming headlamps only
eyes
my unborn child read about in
books
your naked two-by-fours don’t
make me shake
no arsenic will keep me from
your stoop
that desk they say you left
to me as bait
old and wrought-iron
weatheredly delicate and
strange
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