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a family gathers
at the foot

of the grave
in the shade

of a small tree
the gravedigger rests

upon his shovel
fires burn

by the roadside
and smoke hangs

like a halo
from the schoolyard

the children sing
salvation

salvation
one day

there will be
salvation
the river knows
as does the grey

of the rain
the dark windows

of the church know
and the confetti

of leaves wet
upon the cobblestones

he isgone

to ng ue ti pp ed      
                               in to the            
                                              in fi ni te

heis gone
the leaves tried
to tell me

but i confused
their colors

the water tried
to warn me

but i misunderstood
the words

the geese tried
to guide me

but i complained
of not having wings

and soon
i found myself

alone
the church bells
sound the hour

but it is the leaves
we turn to

for time
watch closely

at the ghosts
and bones

of autumn
the final breaths

heavy with yellow
and red

we release
like all colors called

and collected
we release
she
she    loves the sound of rain   she   sleeps until noon   she   kisses with her eyes open   she   sits in the corner   she   does not drink   she wades into the river   she   does not eat   she   is addicted to sadness
shehidesincrowds   she  is one of seven children   she   loves tequila   she  gathers ghosts   she   is her own worst enemy   she   cannot have children  she  applies her make up on the subway   she   attends sunday mass   she   is terrified of hospitals   she   has never seen a dead body   she   sings in the shower   she   lights candles   she   does not know how to swim   she   is angry with god   she   never has money   she   trusts no one   she   places flowers in the vase   she   makes excuses   she   collects lladro   she   died in
her sleep   she   speaks three languages   she   has a laugh like sunshine   she   loves children   she   was *****   she   studied chemical engineering   she   wants to be a dolphin   she   staggers with the weight of loneliness   she   reads shakespeare   she   smokes when she is drunk   she   cries in the dark   she   has a small tattoo of a seahorse on her shoulder
rest area
                                                            ­            each
                                                ­                st ar
                                                              ­        reaches
                                                 ­   us
                                                        her­e
re
re
imagine
me
in
a
field
of
blue

wind upon wax wing
climb cloud up and down

above

the hedgerows the meadows the strands the things
we do not yet know the music to

until the sun whispers
it is time

and
marks
my
cascade
into
the
hands
of
the
sea
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