Russ Woods (poetry)

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Popsicles

It’s finally the season
for popsicles again.
My arms feel heavy
like dead caribou
and it’s finally the season
for popsicles.

Our mouths are big
like two planets aligning
and our tongues are like
gangster hornets
armed with bowie knives
and it’s finally
      the season
                    for
                        popsicles.

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by Russ Woods

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