Tuesday, February 12, 2019

I'LL NEVER BE YOUR MAGGIE MAY Comments

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Ditchwater by the refinery, white light
when I woke in the morning and saw it.

The spaces that never quite got filled,
notes whirling on strong westerly winds.

Not thirst not hunger not him not when
I had scrubbed the half moons clean.

But ditchwater, like raindrops and red
sorrel, dusty beside the railroad track.
...
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Albertina Soepboer
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