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John Destalo
Poems
May 2020
nothing
nothing is left
it has no feelings
it can’t be held
it slips through
my fingers
spills onto
the floor
and disappears
it doesn’t even
leave a stain
when there is
nothing left
there is nothing
to clean
nothing to heal
Written by
John Destalo
55/M/Harrisburg, PA
(55/M/Harrisburg, PA)
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