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Kristen Roberts

Kristen Roberts

Apr 01 2015

0 mins

Tired Wings
With the first turn of the ceiling-fan
winter’s quietest thoughts
were thrown from the blades,
as though the history of a season
might be deciduous.
Each wisp, not inelegant in its fall,
sank like pigment through water,
like hope in the face of truth,
and settled like tired wings on the bed,
unable to fly away.
                      

                            Kristen Roberts

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