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Poet Commentaries

DNR

This was written sometime ago.  It makes a difference to the reader as the distance of time from the story changes the empathy required.  

DNR

The slosh, slop and eddy
of tannin on the road.
The burnt amber incense
of funeral pyres.
The last blush of fall leaves,
unembalmed,
the lone Bay leaf
swirls atop
boiled chicken bones
and carrots.
The tea bag stains my saucer.

DNR

My dad’s bed was unwieldy
over the polished floors
I pulled and pushed fall
into an Indian summer,
spilling,
sunny smiles, bird songs,
rouge lips, rouge cheeks
and rogue tears;
on the wax;
pressed in my album,
that last lone red leaf.

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