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Two Arrows.

 The little girl putting her doll to bed in the beloved pink
bassinet.
 The grandmother seizing her hand at the inquest, breaking skin.
The husband bringing lilies to the room as a nurse wheels in their
newborn.
The woman, the last day, asking at dusk, Is this dying?
You return to your mother's house, find keys, clean closets, call
an attorney.
Select music. Choose Bach: "Sheep Shall Safely Graze." Like
pacing a field to look for piled afterbirth.
The attorney writes back, "The pleadings, the correspondence, the
financial documents. Toss out the rest."
Behind the house in a tree, feathers aren't really blue on the
indigo bunting
but black. Soon even with socks on your hands you're too cold to
walk any more outcrops.
A single blue heron flies low across cordgrass, one direction,
and then another. 
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Author:Kirkpatrick, Patricia
Publication:Prairie Schooner
Article Type:Poem
Date:Mar 22, 2010
Words:177
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