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And now the lark and starling sing.
Now refraction comes through rain.
A child runs to find me across the playground
in Fletcher’s Field. If I climb this ladder, reach down
cavalier from the roof to paint the eaves—
if I fall, could I make
another life, grey streak in my hair? All these years, I have lived as if a thought
could sink me like a paper boat
and have tried to trace back the creek
that carried me out to sea. |
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