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Edison Jennings Poem
My Dad as Blue Winged Teal
Life support had made him
fetal, feeding on O2
hissed through tangled tubes.
I signed my name
and click, he gasped, folding
like a shotgunned duck.
Then I passed out
and watched him
in the wind stropped rain,
thin hair plastered drip
drip slick, green split-
back gown untied,
slosh and lift,
gown-wings flapping.
Edison Jennings
Copyright © Edison Jennings | Year Posted 2017
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