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Audio
Credits
From And in Here, the Menagerie, Templar Poetry, 2007
Unruled
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A prickling, edgeless snowfield,
swelling like held breath.
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I stop, settle into deep, creaking
coldness. It soaks through thin wellies,
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two pairs of socks. I look back.
My footprints are too small for me.
​
A stencilled crow, black as ink,
glides low, but will not land.
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