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Sarah Johnson
Poems
Apr 2015
Untitled
it’s the way our palms touched
and how ever since i can't
wash my hands enough
to get the taste of your
silence from the corners
of my fingernails
it’s the way the branches were
crooked and the bark was torn
but it held a rope the way the earth cradled your sister
–gently,
when the thunder shook her to the ground
and the branches
they trembled and swayed like your shoes,
only inches off the ground
pt 2
Written by
Sarah Johnson
Missoula, MT
(Missoula, MT)
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