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Jan 2012
an earth spilled you soft
onto meadows of grass
and arms lifted you up
with bottle neck glass
boiling deep foriegn squall
of aluminum shards,
hardened sweat celebrations
strewn over the yard
remember these nets
and this slickness of sands
is strange to you too
a strange set of hands
that pulls the sky from you
and forgets how to breathe
and stills a soft meadow
your mother's bereaved.
More from the golden oldies.
MacKenzie Turner
Written by
MacKenzie Turner
939
   --- and JL
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