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THE SENTINEL
I am not burying him,
not until I've recovered
every remembrance,
classified them by School Year,
cross referenced under Asthma Attacks,
Injuries, and Grandmother.
No one is throwing dirt
on my memoirs until I'm sure
they're written and guarded
from rain and snow and forgetting.
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WATER
Loss
has no sound,
yet is not
difficult to read.
There is strength
in water,
my hair rusted
in its pursuit.
The rest is
shallow,
let's keep it a
secret.
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