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a stillborn named

john sweet


in this room
you call yourself
mary

you hide your scars

somewhere
you have a child

somewhere else
a stillborn named
and
then forgotten

you tell me
your story in a
small voice
and i listen
impatiently

one of us prays

one of us is dying more slowly than the other

and when you leave
you take your
name
with you

nothing is left behind

there will always be others

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