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Lament.

 absence that is neither sweet nor bitter without the aftertaste of
willfulness did it happen as the dipper fixed in the northern sky turns
to lie on its side no longer facing east where in late summer the bull
rises with its bright red eye
 or was it more like a rock in the swollen stream millennia to bind its
layered parts then battered cleaved then one half tumbled away
idiopathic is what they say to say no evident cause no trigger no blame
except to blame the way the world winds down winds up again shifting
particles as easily as pollen in the wind
stars stone lichen glued to the stone a human hand
and now one hand withdrawn from the other hand what had been paired a
left a right
                                    every cell divides in order to
multiply it's where we begin 
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Title Annotation:ten poems
Author:Voigt, Ellen Bryant
Publication:The American Poetry Review
Article Type:Poem
Date:Jul 1, 2011
Words:173
Previous Article:Spring.
Next Article:Stones.
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