a few years before now
is
the shortcut toward
harpoon
harry's
eventually
you need to step
out
of the darkness
the
exposed tree roots
a
hundred years growing
through
hurricanes and floods
leafy
overhangs
crowd
your sweaty palms
opening
hands in a black sky
to
the cemetery
like
iron gates and headstones
locked
above ground
for
the poets
and
mandolins
--- e b bortz
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