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Once yearning for love,

now aching with melted memories

which dampens misery’s wick.


The earth’s continuous speech

soaks me, like an unseen virus

evolved and artful at infection.


But then there is my sweet red

inebriant mitochondria and

of course poems and others

which bear me tenderly,

charitably to my next day

and negotiate a transient yet

internally important ceasefire.

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