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Lavendar

March 28, 2010

I trimmed the dead winter twigs from the lavendar
and my finger was stabbed, but it was fair

This is the difference between a poem and the sting of real life –
in a poem I can tell you of the victory the lavendar felt as it wore my blood.

Lavendar, if you are listening
remember that I left everything that was green.

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