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stitches

April 16, 2011

stitches

inching the side of my chin

the left side

of my face

forever different from the right

right away I cried when

I fell out of that tree

before I hit the ground, around

four kids from school came

to visit, to stare, to count

stitches

itching the side of my chin

chiseled, squared growing hair

a beard, weird to look in the

mirror and see the same

five-year-old boy who cried, my eye

spied the same tree that threw me out

I rub my beard and heard children

my own son’s age shout, as they too

climb trees

unsupervised

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