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Poem	All around me, the sky with its deep shade of dark. The stars. The moon with its shrunken soul. Can I become what I want to become? Neither wife or mother. I am noone and nobody is my lover. I am afraid that when I go mad, my father will bow his downy head into his silver wings and weep. My daughter, O my daughter. Originally Published in The 2River View, 10.1, 2005 Copyright © Lisa Zaran, 2005
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