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Damnation

  • Writer: andrew jeter
    andrew jeter
  • Oct 1, 2019
  • 1 min read

There is a pin oak

behind my house

leaning west

over the porch.


In the right season,

acorns begin dropping

on the bleached, green-flushing

wood and

on the stone patio besides.


I step on them and swear

each time.


The cursed tree

grows slowly

toward the sun.

 
 
 

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