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Missing Home

Eight hours. Enough for everything
to run tired ~

Whenever I step away
from my swath of sky, my water-lush

lip of the planet, I wonder

will my house survive
the alley cats of rainstorms, the monarch filled streets ~

When did I convert to domesticity with a house key?

Missing Home

Eight hours. Enough for everything
to run tired ~

Whenever I step away
from my swath of sky, my water-lush

lip of the planet, I wonder

will my house survive
the alley cats of rainstorms, the monarch filled streets ~

When did I convert to domesticity with a house key?

Susan Rich

Seattle

 
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POET OF THE WEEK

Victoria Rolph

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