First the snow for days. Blankout. Frost heaves. I shovel away your
tracks. I expect you. I think one night you're holding my feet at the
edge of the bed, you're downstairs reading The Hour We Knew
Nothing of Each Other. I smell you in the sheets. Wind blows the
door open. Even the single bluebird is looking for you. For 40
nights I dream you leave
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the sky's spindrift
and
I am without a body desperate for the sorcery of
summer
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Amazing. ♥
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