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Gift Horse


My enemies give me gifts I do not need: calves’ foot jelly,

decorative spoons, a baby’s bib that reads, God’s Girl.

It is far from the moon, this uselessness. It’s a trilobite. It’s two cats

suspended in pitchy whale song. The gifts (framed two-dollar bill,

wet sheet music) – Everything as it should be, it all seems to say.

Be happy, a set of cloth napkins reads. In blue.