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AFTER THE MARRIAGE Keith Leonard |
Each headlong drop into sleep with swallows. A twitch of shoulder chopping onions with a measuring spoon. of the limbs, asking, Are you his beautiful girl fit snugly in his fist, in my palm. Or if I dream of a picnic, above the mouth of a well. Most nights, is plains given way to sudden mountain ranges, around tree limbs, the cuts
__ This poem was written after a few late-night reads of Charles Simic's The Voice at 3 A.M. |