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Evan Stephens
Poems
May 2019
Another Image
A silver lake of fog
rests by the ten oaks.
Smoke shivers too,
thin as a wafer.
Against the clouds
is a mirage of small birds.
Massless morning,
scalloped rain,
long as Sunday,
old as poison.
Written by
Evan Stephens
44/M/DC
(44/M/DC)
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