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poet

Priscilla Becker

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by this poet

poem
as the sun
descended and the world
fell in line
across the water in a
thin spectrum
I watched a shadow
cross the crusted
sweating snow
searching for
the one it was, the
space it would
someday fill

the anxious outline
flit across
the surface
like an animal
let loose who soon
gets lost and stops

and strains its
poem

the sun always comes up
               (indisputable,                 
                   unarguable)

     yet some
     days the white 
suffocate lowers           
like snowy exhaust
designed to trick you
into death

these are the days
I like