every time i peep into my backyard
through that bay window
in my large living room
that summer bird of yesteryear,
(my fluttering memories of that woman
a new canadian goose
who decided to fly away
with another gander,
no – that white peacock,)
flies into to my unkempt garden
to torment and torture
me; my heart with six bypasses
then, threatens to stop
while, the cancerous cells, around
my daughter’s neck, multiply
like weeds in a neglected patch
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