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- by Linn Barnes

-Linn Barnes

We shoulder despair
tighten our jeans
weather the harsh world

and eat the fucking 
turkey once each year
as the clock rings

and we all sing
anthems of glory
while we rattle the

shattering doors 
of what now must be done
beyond the tilted glass

and the loaded plate
where the malignant 
truth lies buried

in the lonely lines
of the sad preamble 
to the ugly fall which

double-times to the 
end in full sight
of a heavy crunch.