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The Dead Pour Me Out Like Tea
I am dead to many, a few are dead to me.
I am forgotten
by girls in green silk sarongs
yet they still pour me out like tea.
The dead are drunk on themselves,
as I am.
I throw up
a timeworn rope of thought
they haul me up
just enough for me to see
the moon
caught in a teacup,
then I allow them,
let them breathe life
into my mouth
and I again remember.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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