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January's
winter ghosts call me:
"We
cannot escape those dreary dawns
assumed by Aquarius—the edge."
Possessed by desires unquenched,
singing in the woods, by the lake, a song,
and falling on mildewed graves, we mourn.
Copyright © 2009 by Kevin Dunn
kbdunn@gmail.com
Last
revised August 17, 2009