Narrow Flame - Poem by Linda Gregerson
Dark still. Twelve degrees below freezing.
the elegant, injured right front
leg of the gelding on the cross-ties. Kneeling
The undersong of waters as she bathes
the leg in yet more cold. [tongue is broken]
[god to me]
Her hair the color of winter wheat.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You