Jennifer L. Knox
IN EXCHANGE FOR SOME MORE
I think I might've clipped you
back there: sorry. I thought
you were a traffic cone
the way you wobbled. So
how could I resist? Please
accept this unwieldy inflatable safety bumper
as a large gesture.
Look: the whirling dervishes
have returned to the feeder.
They've forgotten all
about the poison (they've been really
busy). We counted on them to be just
the way they are, bubbling under
their little purple turbans.
I think you might've poisoned me
back there: sorry. You thought
I was a polar bear
asleep in the snow
because I told you so. Please
accept my tongue
as an apology.
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