Orchard – Susan Millar DuMars 

I torched our orchard last night.
The first flames were feathers
fallen from some bright,
fabled bird.

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Marriage of Many Years – Dana Gioia

Most of what happens happens beyond words.
The lexicon of lip and fingertip
defies translation into common speech.

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Fable – Shara Mccallum


You shrugged off the raiment of the living
 —and I knew I would forget you,
  ——–the way all the dead are forgotten,

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At the Fair – Edith Sitwell

I. Springing Jack

Green wooden leaves clap light away,
Severely practical, as they

Shelter the children candy-pale,
The chestnut-candles flicker, fail . . .

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