Relatively lucid hands shed red blood
When cut-quick, papers stain timelines
Chronometers at meter-depth play
Rhythms, enjambed against shivers
Because it's cold without familiarity
And unfamiliar with last names
Treed by genealogy, mythical games
Can be played by the victim
Of birth and then nurture
By cynical words
A meaning is sutured
Thus and the poet
Donned barely hat
Threaded and scared
This library cat
Meow in the window
Mousey and faced
By themes and narrators
Tired out the pace
Together in rooms
Living on stills
Sunday's a picture
Peacefulness chills

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