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Ritual
Ritual
It is a grey morning
I am awake early
The backdoor is open
And cool air enters the kitchen
My father is on his knees
Scrubbing a wire brush
On the fire grate
Newspapers on the floor
He takes a rag
And pours black lead
Onto the stiffened fibres
Then he smears it
Onto the scrubbed surfaces
He balls up the newspaper
And throws it on the hearth
...Saturday 30th May 2020 2:34 pm
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