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Dennis Willis
Poems
Jun 2021
Not Me, Please
This hand holds that hand
that hand holds this hand
in a constant encircling
this is wringing our hands
they've taken our last cover
we are exposed to the sky
backing, scrambling uselessly
we close our eyes waiting
the crack of the bolt stuns us
and then in darkness
no way to look away
freeze feeling hot breath
Written by
Dennis Willis
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