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Empty Lungs
She alone shadows my outside heart in glass,
Unknowns in saws and hands, a lifetime's goodbye
That her memory's stay will still on us crash,
Where the breath in both our wombs, this hollow light —
A channel of trees all grown up should, must last —
And the tongue in her leaves also with me cries,
The rattling of limbs through some window passed —
Shaking green on my lips, her oxygen mask.
Copyright ©
Paige Hind
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