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Jun 2019
Fall is an empty street in Rome,
Of byways of dry-leaf stone and moth-haunted hours,
Of market stalls with their over-haggled and fingered rinds,
And melons moiled over and palmed and bruised.
The light blows like once-told ripeness from the basket of fruit.
Chris Saitta
Written by
Chris Saitta  52/M/Virginia
(52/M/Virginia)   
  1.3k
   jeacole
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