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FEBRUARY

She lives in old trees
things written about her
are strange
black apples
some pomegranates
and glass colored leaves.

I want to touch moisture
her skin.

I search the orchard
but, winter does not end

exhausted
I wait for the rain

hear voices
confused with her name.


SHE MAKES ME PUT AWAY WINTER

I feel the slope of her belly

my hand wet with...
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VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
vidnik:
Yes... I wrote this. These are some of the poems from the February series....
chika:
loved what you wrote!
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nothing that is complete breathes
liv:
so for breathing we need to be incompleted?


thanks for u comment in my set by the way biggrin