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Where Often
by Anne Doolittle
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the insubstantial builds
when no two days are given away
something polishes the mantle
of motion framing the fingerprints of day
inside a cloth of crocheted rain
chants decipher droplets
as if each inked a stain
or eclipse on morning’s temple
this is the only hold
for a human out in the open
feeling grass’s undertow
and the wind’s shoulder sharpen
Copyright © 1999
Anne Doolittle
All Rights Reserved |
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