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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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Song of Solomon

 

A man should build his city out of snow.

And walls

 

when you are gone

you are gone.

 

The wind rests on its side

balanced on the bough

 

posing as another gusty leaf.

I’m too high up in the tree of my being.

 

To the ones in the cool black

rectangle beside the house

 

finishing lunch—

your dark space steadily grows.

 

Some things are new

in the shade.

 

Soon the dry bird bath will be in reach.

And later, the white bench.


                                       —Dustin Junkert