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by L. B. Williams
Cacti weep in starlight down the sky
in night light thorns become white petals
elongated before they disappear.
In a bar and grill on Fourth of July
my son stands on the plastic green chair
I hold for him, his arm round my shoulder
over by the Hudson River
blue flowers on his still blond hair.
2001- 2013, Quill & Parchment
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