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thanksgiving poetry

afraid no more, i say
with the meek, brown eyes
star-dust and vaporous light
the swan existing
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes
she knows a cheap release
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
we who stood
she heard the children playing in the sun
when, full of warm and eager love
candles toppling sideways in tomato cans
this ancient silver bowl of mine

 



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