…still waiting for me.
the life of the blossoms.
…in my arms.
A slow death is even worse.
We all know that.

It gets inside you…
Firewood mostly.
Death’s calling card.
It’s exciting.
I dumped gallons of milk

One hundred-plus three.
are weeping in their sorrow.
You were shot. You fainted.
The snow is warm.

The clouds…
I can’t let you in now.
I can hardly look you in the face.
It’s hard to celebrate such a loss.
So they just scream.

…a one-eyed bird…
But broke my heart…
A girl.
you couldn’t see the stars.
…as if they were miracles.

Your watch is broken.
…I feel that same pain.
We’ve got candles and linseed oil.
No casualties.
But my parents…

their forgiveness.
A nice, happy funeral.
…in this orchard.
The hands are moving.
in bloom once more?


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