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This poem is taken from PN Review 176, Volume 33 Number 6, July - August 2007.

Two Poems Josephine Dickinson

The Three Bearing Gifts

The three bearing gifts arrive.
A white bath plank, a frame
with a funnel for the toilet, a piece
of tubular steel to bolt
to the bed. A wooden cross
with rubber battens to lift
the chair. One of the three
explains to the others where
things go and how they work.
Then they call you. You rise
with difficulty, like a wet butterfly
on its first flight and no legs
to speak of. I forcibly hold
my hands behind me, try not
to help. They make you cross
a hand over to hold a rail.
Awkward. You turn. Left

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