i have been trying to forgive you.
god rides in a little red truck. all the horses
are melted down for glue. we paste macaroni 
to make constellations. i used to be so angry.
that saturday after i had surgery when we sat
on either side of a match box & pretended 
i wasn't a wound. your smile is kneaded bread.
let's not be family anymore. let's be race car drivers
or ship makers. neither of us have the knees or genders
for becoming priests. i scraped my plate. 
painted you a portrait of us in all blue.
the apple falls & falls. i sleep somewhere else. 

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