the day is pale with frost
birds huddle together on the wire
like paid mourners
the nurse told me I had mild concussion
and let me go
thirteen stitches seemed unlucky
that was thirty-nine years ago
three times thirteen
I do the sum
I count the cost
the day is pale with frost
birds huddle together on the wire
thirteen of them
Another Way of Saying 
I wrote a poem about thirteen, would you like to read it?
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Yes please – most definitely!
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I will reblog it at the top of my blog
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