RHYME Poem: placing objects within your walls, by Syf Abbey Sloane

let every pipe groan
burst, walls leaking
little songs i sung you seeping
into the hardwood
eyes in every knot
trees looking still
we could forget some forests
where i called you me
where you didn’t exist
or do much talking, leastways
drinking coffee in the sugar shack
making earnest conversation
with two hundred year old pelts,
muskrat

can you hear me now?

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