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Fairy Lights

Strung along our walls
thumb-tacked and draped
close to the ceiling
early, late, every day
I held my breath
plugged in this antidote to winter dark
house rainbowed at every window,
joy for five dollars a string.
One by one, the strands
go dark, something hidden in them
breaks. I throw the dead
in the kitchen trash, though they deserve
A proper burial
for all the light
they gave, until they had
no more to give.
Down to one room now,
this room,
still glowing
Green, yellow, pink, red, blue.

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