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How I Dealt with Uncle
Georges Glass Eye
was to skid from teastain islands on the tablecloth
to canyons in the plaster overhead
or troll it in the gutter with my ally taw
or drop the pale blue yolk and creamy white
into a frying-pan. Our laughter
made the birthday candles genuflect.
His mouth and left eye shone.
The right was as indifferent as the stars.
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