to show I'm not wholly rude,
but to half frame what shuffles downstairs
for the crack to be maintained.
Acting out, no you can't chuck my workbooks,
though they only remind me I only
half-remembered maths then,
and now the blood I drew in rough.
I don't want the family tree either,
or to think of the bass amp in the
shoe cupboard, fuse blown,
its last catastrophic rumbling wheeze.
Charles and Diana
rattled in the dresser,
they feel it still,
clattered into saucers.
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