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On Finding A Book To Read

For the days that are left the smallest song:
A wish for snow on your parted hair.
The fire is warm but the nights belong
To the days that are left, and the smallest song
—‘The Smallest Song' Martha Collins, The Catastrophe of Rainbows

Well that is enough: the smallest song
and some things words can do
and did they cut deep, where the ooze of blood stings
and how long to heal into poetry?
it must do more or less, it must do if it sings
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Wednesday, August 26, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: lament

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6/22/2021 4:18:33 PM #