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Bag Of Mice

 I dreamt your suicide note
was scrawled in pencil on a brown paperbag,
& in the bag were six baby mice.
The bag opened into darkness, smoldering from the top down.
The mice, huddled at the bottom, scurried the bag across a shorn field.
I stood over it & as the burning reached each carbon letter of what you'd written your voice released into the night like a song, & the mice grew wilder.

by Nick Flynn
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