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Sarah
Poems
Jun 2014
digging ditches in my hand
I saw a trail
of flowers
leading to
the stairwell
as I brought the
groceries in,
through the building's lobby
the plastic handles digging ditches in my hands
I saw the fallen
geraniums, pink,
coupled by old,
and drying leaves
and scraps of stem,
buds who
never had the chance to bloom
I saw
the perfect path
to follow,
or a path to
walk away.
You're digging ditches in my hand.
Written by
Sarah
F/Oregon
(F/Oregon)
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