Panic

There is dust in the watering hole
and nothing will ever be the same again
nothing
except the tips of the squirrels
and their gleeful little hats
and somebody’s leftover rainbow

Grieve for the pudding
which is not like other puddings
and cheer for the pudding
which is not like other puddings

Follow the rattlesnake
Jenny Cooper
and lash it
to the tongue
of its enemy

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