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poems at five below

five below zero
all the candles lit
for the glow

A poem revved
its cold engine next to me
I waved it off

Sorry, I said—
Today, I’d rather
breathe and stare
at nothing for a while

another gift of long practice—
not every time
do I have to grab those words
and pull hard

not all hungers darken
if unfed. Some, with
years of steady love,
will shrug, curl into
themselves for a nap
and say—maybe, later

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