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I would eat you were it not for the pain
of my big tooth wiggling like one of those small doors
cut into doors so that pets, small dogs mostly,
can come and go as they please. What I have eaten of you
tastes like mint and damp clay, tastes exactly like the soil
I ate in my grandmother's yard as a boy.They called
me savage then, because I reeked and wreaked havoc
on the slim flowers so well acquainted with the sun.
A dwarf could fit inside this door in...