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Mouse Eggs
Vehicule Poets
Cut by Hand
John McAuley
I order myself
into these lines
working from instinct.
I stick to these words,
to the poem, to the craft
day after day,
driving across my content
stretching a form
to shelter me in my age.
––Soon enough to die––
My serviceable tent
left in tatters
will flap, aimlessly, against time
& crumble against my bones.
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