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Jan 2013
Brick dust tumbles
with last reach for light,
choked leaves gasping for air.

Cigarette ends and spiders
come and go
like traffic on the road.

Rain drips along
upright canals of grout
slurped by parched roots.

Crinkled buds
like baby’s hands,
drenched, unfold.
Jessica Fowler
Written by
Jessica Fowler
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