Not without a by-your-leave
not without a long-form courtesy
don’t leave the table
not for deluge or turgor
not till I ease my spleen
of greenish blue blood
of ochre red bilirubins
billy goat hungry white cells
my blood speaks Elizabethan
king’s rubbish
five generations of us in Pittsburgh
own their fenced plots in Pennsylvania
we died civilian patriots
at the town’s best rest home
you will be dumped in Potter’s Field
you were invited
once
to see how Brahmins are
you lucky stranger
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