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"Poetry is the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash." Leonard Cohen

Sunday, November 2, 2014


Imagine the last four months are erased completely
Imagine that I don't need to know what happened
Imagine I look outside and the boys are
tumbling out of your van
They are as blond and tousled as ever, giggling their
way up my walk, calling to me as they come
Imagine my eyes widening in happy surprise
Imagine these extra crow's-feet, the ones old skin
acquires from crying too often, just disappear
Imagine the leaves of fall flying backwards to
stick themselves to each bare bough
Imagine the hour we gained last night is lost for
now as I wind all the clocks to summer again
Imagine the hole in my heart healing over as if
it had never existed
Imagine you are the daughter I remember, not
the stranger you've become
If I close my eyes and spin three times,
...we'll all be together again.

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