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Gacela Of The Dead Child

Rating: 2.7

Each afternoon in Granada,
each afternoon, a child dies.
Each afternoon the water sits down
and chats with its companions.

The dead wear mossy wings.
The cloudy wind and the clear wind
are two pheasants in flight through the towers,
and the day is a wounded boy.

Not a flicker of lark was left in the air
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Jason Nesbit 12 November 2017

Imagery/figurative language welll handled. Sound and cadence less so.

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