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Judith TaylorPoems |
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Short Form
Judith Taylor
Appropriate, since we talked about the sestina,
to write one on our evening at the curry-house.
Its endless circling would suit the conversation
— work, our wretched lovelives, that time at the sawmill —
as we ate, and advanced ourselves on the road to cirrhosis.
Appropriate, yes. But really, I can't be arsed.
