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Shira Dentz
Aubade Again
Streets shine
like seal skin.
I long for a
handful of
miscellaneous
textures &
shapes,
though they’d be
extraneous
to the elephant
in the room.
This is a
work poem
yearning
to be lyric.
We take small
steps on pebbles
laid out to cross the
lake mirroring a
boundaryless
vat of grief.
Needles plague
the dock, pink
linen spills,
a waterfall of
blush, an ode
ahead of time.