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Amanda Miller
Poems
Mar 2015
Garden
I've pruned the edges of my garden, but
when all still wilts, withers, and dies
I plant myself anew.
I pat clods of dirt between the crevices of my ribcage
and nestle a seedling in the cavity
of my heartspace.
Perhaps something lovely
will grow there
someday.
Written by
Amanda Miller
Pennsylvania
(Pennsylvania)
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