Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2022  Vol.21  No. 1
an online journal of literature and the arts
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At the antique shop your
Eyes melted into memory,
Each hand dissolved into
The exquisite glass
Your low form unable
To tell the last secret
To that accompanying
Child, who watched
Your helpless body go down,
His face eased with understanding,
Though you had been reduced to
A lone pair of eyes before him
For your mouth had already
Gone, your ears were melted wax,
There was no use for secrets
By then, in the far-off daylight  

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