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Friday, December 31, 2021

eve


by mary c fogg



i will command a poem
for what it is worth
my crown will have no gem
my child will have no birth

i will write an epitaph
for my old nurse
the maid will laugh
so much the worse

a messenger will travel
down an empty thoroughfare
he will arrive to no revel
but i will be here

i will cut a flower
and put it in a vase
at the appointed hour
i will have no face


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