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Wooden blinds in a living room
dream of chipmunks hoarding
nuts and woodchucks shush
the rabbit slurping
chamomile
in his evening tea.

I snap its eyelids open,
all forty nine but one,
and a winter’s morning
d r aft startles
nipples
into conversation.

The city’s decked
in white
, said Left,
She soon will walk
the aisle
.
She’s rather dead,
said droopy Right, This
is her very last
veil.

The limbs of trees cold
stiff like Death so Right
knew she was right, ’til
a cheeky leaf did dare
to sneeze. Bridal showers!
perked Left, delight!

Virgin skin untouched
by men
, mused Left
the less-used prude.
Right spoke for snow-
scabbed branches, sagging
shapeless
like gum much-chewed,
Do virgin uterine
walls stay taut
or prolapse
their bloody fall?

I zipped my fleece
so naked sheep
may bring my bickering
breasts to peace.
A lady’s court
and wrestling rings
may choose to sport
such chilly discourse.
But – it’s hard to be
a referee
while freezing one’s own
arse.

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