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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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[Untitled]

 

Every love note starts out warm

sent by one hand over another

is pressing down on this snow

 

making a fire on her grave, covers it

with those songs from the 40s

still trailing smoke, longing for rain

 

that’s not one night alongside another

each falling off as the name

at the end, a pet name, a secret

 

you would write on a wall

to whiten it, begin again

already winter and bleeding to death.

 

—Simon Perchik