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Gospel of a Certain Kind
by
H.C. McEntire
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Freely You come to me kneeling Pleading Keep driving me mad Came to see the dripping moss Stayed to feel like some part of Left to know how real it was Heal me Words brave and binding Steeping Tea leaves before bed Fertile as a Delta pile Final as a finish line Gospel of a certain kind Nearly Gave into the feeling Seedlings To scatter and spread Open-ended afternoons Rearrange the living room A vice, a wife, alone, you choose
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