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Shadow Diorama
Even the ghosts have faded now,
splashes of gray like shadows
in a child's diorama.
They slip in and out of mortared cracks
in my mind,
seeking a validation
I cannot besrow.
But they must remain in
their graves,
Wrapped in their gangrenous
shrouds, pursuing
redemption without me.
Copyright ©
Mary Rotman
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