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Ars Poetica


I keep rifles in the front closet.
                 Trespassing can be a glance.

A good shot,
                 I practice with bottles, bull's eyes.

I cross the line where the fence breaks,
                 where the wood falls in unintended directions,

and prepare an offensive
                 before any repair.

I know the value of my property.
Ungloved, I place the barbed wire.

Written by Vievee Francis

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