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In Mom’s room,
in Dad’s old cabinet,
in the second to bottom drawer,
in a little silver box
in a bunch of little trinkets and seashells and shining black stones,
and everything else children keep around

(because it’s pretty)
on a bent steel keychain
on a little white shrinky dink,
oh, you know the kind,
it reads:
“Happy Father’s Day, Dad!”
I took the box and put it
on my dresser
in a cardboard shoebox
in a bunch of papers and paintings and notebooks
and everything else I keep around

(because it hurts me.)