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Scrambled Eggs
by ESeth Alexander Riddley
I remember our kiss, ensconced
in Thomas. ~Yes, he would have convened
His brethren upon suspicion that we’d
careened into wicked willows the Bludgeoned Boss
~that captured, bloody thing of a mangod~
might hang his holy hat or head upon.
Whenever they speak of the unequally yoked,
I think of scrambled eggs on a cross of willows.
Eat carefully or you might get a splinter.
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