Poems

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22 February 2014

9:00 AM

22 February 2014

9:00 AM

As I make my way
to the greenhouses
a seagull kills me in its pure white throat.

Quiet in the tomatoes.
Quiet among the beans.
Soft dark patches where the rain leaks in.

Can I come home?
Has it been too long?
Tall weeds growing through the coils of hose.

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