When I hear you talkarms flailing, the riseand fall of the voice,I trace the contours ofyour face with my eyesMeet an acquaintance,watch your spirit plungewith all its mightinto reason, contention,willingness to bring change.The mirror reflects a memoryfrom years ago,a forgotten affair with passionburied under layers ofquiet living.What's lost is often around the cornerThe apple, they …
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A Hundred Quills 