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grace :: phillis levin

by on November 25, 2016

Someone across the room laughs so lightly
We hear the rustle of pines, the rattle
In a cone when a sparrow, alighting,
Leaves for a reason unsung in its singing,
And the air, stirred by startled breath, now
Emptied, surprises like another’s pain
We register without a smile or gesture,
Admitting it is there as our pupils
Dilate slightly, change gently pulling like
An undertow anemones answer
When waters whose whispers are lost in waves
Intimate worlds we will never enter.

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