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Eden Pajaro

October Stroll



Light fingertips leave no trace on moss and lichen

But they ghost over titles and birthdays,

Mother, March, Sister, September.

The army of smooth stone whispers secrets

Heard only by fireflies, vases, and embers.

There’s a stuffed animal somewhere on the way

A smiling bear left of the pond and beneath the drooping willow

Weeping, they say, a weeping willow

To wail for the bones crying for air

To blanket my spot with shadow

Died, December.



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