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| MARY'S MORNING
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She wakes up, and dreams
slip away through finger nets
like strands of seaweed floating
out out
on the tide
She turns to the weight
of the clock
which metronomes
its schedules, and her heartbeat bends
like the first fresh growth
of ivy,
burde
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from The Wind is a Tall Man Striding
watershedBooks
2000
Copyright © Jim Slominski |
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