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Flame Trees
by Lyn Lifshin

the last days I came
to rose lace. Or
was it rose bud?
Something open-
ing, that has it’s
end cut center
cut out as I did
now tucked in like
a bulb. No need
to wonder if there
is someone else.
And yet, this long
space, not even
another poem,
can wrap things up.












 

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