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Julie Hart

What I Brought Her


a three-legged vase

a branch of bittersweet

red leaves in a fan

a knobbed stick

a chocolate bar

then another

my chagrin

the twelve steps typed out

omitting mention of God

a sense of being let down

envy for the spa-like aspects

an understanding of the way drinking became

the job she’d rather do, became the blame

for what we’d done to her, expected of her

my refusal to call it a sickness

two parts anger, one part pity

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