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Poem: A Small Dark Island 

Having slept with my fountain pen
I wake to ink-stained sheets.
When I take them off I discover
the mattress is stained also.
The sheets I throw in the wash
but find myself hesitating to take
a wet sponge to the mattress.
The stain looks exactly
like a small dark island.
I hate to disturb its tranquility.
I’d rather give it a name.

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