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anna
Poems
Mar 2013
His Grave Is Hidden
dirt creased into your knees, bruises beaten through
bones. callouses split open
on the splintering post of the shovel.
whistling grass thrives in these tears;
you're growing a
wild and twisting meadow.
his grave is hidden.
Written by
anna
pennsylvania
(pennsylvania)
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vircapio gale
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