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dirt
by Spiel
Fern phoned long distance
around dusk
that piteous voice
said she could not bear
one more day on earth
without Amos
asked if Paul and I
would come
put her under the dirt.
I said
You know we can’t do that
I had a sense of her
smoldering
like a lone campfire coal
abandoned in wilderness
regretting
it had not been doused
by the last human
occupant
and not a possible drop
of rain
in sight
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