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A Poem

Image by Larisa Koshkina from Pixabay

the last piece
of tinsel from the
tree, but it catches
on my anxiety, winds down
through breakable ornaments
and bad memories, tangling
impressions of family gatherings,
tightening the roar in my ears as I’m
grabbing my children to stop them from
wrecking a relative’s pristine house of glass vases,
shiny baubles and everything placed in perfection just

What a pretty Christmas. Such lovely tinsel. Such strong silver string
drawing an end to something inside me that will never be allowed to



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