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THIEF HALLOW BRANCH, ARKANSAS Anne Barngrover |
Sometimes a ghost is not a ghost mists in the cottonwoods, speaks as egg and butter pie. A girl cannot Watch the red hens, how they squat when they fear roughed hands. She Watch the first forsythia creeping up pressed bruise. By evening, a faint keeps the women so cold for so long— __ I passed by this place on the way to another. |