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thomas gabriel
Poems
Feb 2012
February 11
A lone plough tills a
moonless sky.
Votive seeds sewn once more
with ash-white dust
on February’s caustic,
elongated breaths.
Crows carry a portentous look.
Late August: we tied
six roses to the wall
with an expectant love
but faded blood
heralds nothing new.
©*Thomas Gabriel
Written by
thomas gabriel
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