December 2009
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Christmas Eve
We went home with our fancy cameras,
took a first photo of our mothers,
the skin on their neck,
the skin around their knuckles
looked old.
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It was the first time we noticed them,
thin,
in gray cardigans that smelled of cedar
and wearing pearl earrings our fathers
once had the foresight to buy.
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On Christmas Eve we waited
and the magic waited too
until old wrapping paper filled
the...
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Sea
It was wide angled sea foam,
old men, once visionaries
and the last building in a city
before they tore it down.
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I found you, all limbs
curled inside the washing machine
waiting for the
spin cycle.
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Sound
The sea froze over,
you stood
at the kitchen table,
rearranging the flowers.
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