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Unbirthed

My friend,

Everything is all twisted inside.
The second of kids, muleheaded in a lazy goat.
You had goats and tired of them.
This isn’t why;
yours were uncontainable.

Mama and four kids lost,
vet notwithstanding, the put down,
and saving of lingering pain.
The children mourn livestock;
I mourn other things,
including you, my friend,
“the only man I ever loved.”

The earth had compassion enough
to fill my basement with tears
and welcome five goats
into her embrace,
shoveling a soft mid-winter bosom,
before becoming frozen and heartless again,
tomorrow night.

That unpleasantness finished,
I still mourn for you.
I’ve known you long,
and the facade
of a man who spoke truth
shatters these depths.

I may never know the pain, my friend.
With spade in hand, I’m not ready
to bury a friendship to such depth.
Thus, I wait for spring
and hopes’ renewal;
perhaps, for you as well,
“The only man I ever loved.”

(note: the quote is from the book “Atlas Shrugged” by Ayn Rand)

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