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Small AffairTo Karen Lodge's previous piece


Atop a buoy the
Sea vulture comes into view,
full screen.
The village idiot mumbles.

Cruise ships leave Manhattan
rounding the point past Sandy Hook,
abandoning the burden
of poetry that will not come.

Sufficient sustenance
to satisfy her day,
laying still on wooden palette,
down and white shroud.

Oh, the nights are long

Surrounded by shattered glass,
not able to spare the sorrow,
Leaving the sunset to imagination

Lay here in my arms,
Smell the ocean,
listen to the waves.

So very wide awake 
in this 3 am sweltering summer day
This time is magic.
Share it with me.

A little rain,
your sensitivity
bringing me rest

The sirens, the train whistle and the rain.
The rain
The rain

Passive passion,
Fearful expression.
How empty the day is without you

Your rib may pierce my lungs and heart,
as when love began
But what I weave
 and how I woe
 are not for you to measure

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