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Domestic Meditations

  by Doug Ramspeck


  As far as morning goes, no one dreams

  such brood of winter. Mother imagines

  she is dragging sweaters down over the heads

  of her children. Even our voices

  reverberate the walls and make them

  a socery. Which means she loves

  us the way vapor finds

  the lowlands where it crawls

  at first light, where day appears

  in sudden, stately dispatch.
 

    Mantis 13

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