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Small Tricycle

Lessons at home with my brother
hurtle past, we are taught that
everything we see does not exist.

Playing hide and seek,
a lodger puts a piece of liver
on the kitchen table. I paddle

my fingers
in the sloppy, red placenta
while my brother screams.

Through the key hole
our mother chops the liver, a smear of blood
on the back of her hand.

 

 

 

 

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