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This poem is taken from PN Review 266, Volume 48 Number 6, July - August 2022.

Small Hands George Goddard
Small hands, outstretched beneath cold eaves in the rain,
water cascading from tjiwyèz palms, dripping
from a boy’s fingers imagining waterfalls
waterfalls that send ants scurrying into spaces
beneath wet leaves where I surmised they lived.
Fascinated by what seemed then,
their going-in without and emerging with wings (the ants) with which
to fly into the light         the soft light of a rainy day

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