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Dec 2011
necks of half-stripped trees are woven
tightly, we expect winter has been fleeing,
slipping out into the night, leaving us empty
handed when morning arrives

the view from Monday appears staggering
with few thunderstorms as we hung tattered
coats, limp, behind closed doors; calking, still
shivering from the howling winds
of December’s yawn
Ana
Written by
Ana
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   Emilie, Shashank Virkud and HR B
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