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Elizabeth Zuba

Left a smoke cloud

 

so dense

on your pillow

are the same dreams

to contain the fire

only to miraculously resurrect

the speed, the image, castles

the big clouds

big clouds scudding by

finely orienting us

under the sky

and the steady wind

from some giant blast

that sweeps across time

we clutch our photo albums

laptops I wish I had grabbed

my hairbrush, my birth certificate

it may be harder to reach than ever

and my girl? my girl?

has anyone seen my girl?

 

 

 

Thorny and full-blown


almost a testament

to how you feel

 

in fun-house mirrors

mostly true by awe

 

the calculus a breakneck speed

the artifice slow broken

 

so much that you can even see yourself

walking behind you

 

sometimes

you can even see a bird just beyond reach

 

flitting and hopping across the lawn

from a child’s outstretched arms

 

How far will you go?

 

How long will you hold me?

 

 



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