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This poem is taken from PN Review 35, Volume 10 Number 3, January - February 1984.

Evening Frances Horovitz

             Lilac blossom crests the window sill
mingling whiteness with the good dark of this room.
A bloom of light hangs delicately in white painted angles.
Bluebells heaped in a pot
still hold their blue against the dark;
I see their green stalks glisten.

                Thin as a swan's bone
I wait for the lessons of pain and light.
Grief is a burden, useless.

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