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reading what I write aloud is like speaking to you.
words sung into the air. me. wrapped in the listening silence.
it helps that winter is over
at this distance I can see that you were as bound by your own
periphery as I.
caught inside that skin which is history unable to tear through lest you
  would bleed, empty out. lose
all shape all structure.
lose yourself.
there are moments, of course, but not for you and me.
you fade, taking yourself out of the action. I see you quietly slip
  the corner
into your own life even if with a little sadness
the ice cream truck plays its tune over and over and I can't think.
I miss
  you unbearably. I miss myself
but I will be able to work myself right again, surely.
perhaps if I make a painting of you
touch you with each mark of the brush
                       it will be enough

Artist and poet Ditta Baron Hoeber has had solo exhibitions at The Print Center, Philadelphia; the Philadelphia Art Alliance; the Abington Arts Center; and the University of Houston Clear Lake.

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Title Annotation:TWO POEMS
Author:Hoeber, Ditta Baron
Publication:The American Poetry Review
Article Type:Poem
Date:Jul 1, 2018
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