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You are here: Home / Poetry / winter-noon solitude

winter-noon solitude

January 6, 2016 Leave a Comment

it isn’t pride
my love–
this prison
assembled
of winter-noon solitude(s)
is simply blood-knuckle stone
each rock, round and firm
‘neath an arched hand’s
callous-skin caress
the dimming voices
at the perimeter
growing fainter
as evanescent
as a dream

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