S O S

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S.O.S.

Inside we each have 
two radios 
the small one
just below the liver
the other where ‘World’s oldest dog Maggie dies peacefully, sleeping in her basket‘ used to be

tights lose their atoms to the friction of my thighs
I buy new ones
same/time

OK
OK
OK

the blood on your knees times a number
your meat roughly equivalent to 
seventy-eight full chicken breasts
three Maggies

the radios only pick up one
station which plays the voices of
ghosts over and over

you hear: left turn into traffic
brass band head rush
ice clink
rocks glass 

I hear: a series of Morse code blinks
mute mother
dot dot dot dash dash dash dot dot dot
I’m not alone in my body today

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