Dying list

The list is formidable, frayed in the corner
Yellowed, crawly writing, corner to corner
Like  ants in line that have lost their  way
To the edge of a wall, shouts lost in legs.
Our dying list  is a bucket list, a corner list
Where all is swept up to the angular edges
And we make  ant-lines, lost in our ways
Our white stuff, on our backs all the time.
So many legs, we have lost count, so many.


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