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happy birthday poem

birds against the april wind
there was a time in former years
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
who is the runner in the skies
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes
now while my lips are living
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
above them all, looking down
what was it the engines said
as i lie roofed in, screened in
high walls and huge
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon

 



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