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This poem is taken from PN Review 30, Volume 9 Number 4, March - April 1983.

A Letter Michael Bird

I picture you now as I sit down to write,
(Each paragraph beginning 'I . . .')
Standing between the room and light,
Attentive while the room's new dark
Settles both children in their sleep. Their lives
Spill throughout its soft density
As smoke that stumbles through a beehive.

Their breathing is not yours; it has almost
...


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