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The Drowning
Passed melting hedgerows,
Smashed backward onto the pavement,
Cold, bleak and real.
Grasp and entwine paint’s oozing stories.
Always the same damn shoes.
Holes, comfortable pain
Over twin islands;
Summer one, winter its mate.
Stones wake the sole,
It’s the holes you see.
Stretching veins down the corridor
Until they snap!
How long before the drowning?
Great swallows of life
Choke all the way down,
Wondrously chained to inevitable breath,
Crisp, clear and ice cold.
Follow the madman.
S.A Mogollon
11-24-06
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