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  Chris Major
   
     
CLOT
 
Pins 'n' needles
caused you to drop cups,
fumble at buttons and zips,
lose your grip
on pens,
tools,
job and self-worth;
existence shrank to an avenue,
a garden,
a house;
this ward
along which you
struggle to meet me:
dead one side,
stiff,
lurching,
while leading with a shoulder
to stop life slamming shut,
as my name crosses your
mind slowly as a scalpel.
 

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