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Poetry | August 2005

Birth, Still

By Cristina Breshears

The shift slight
in her eyes slanted
away and shrouded.

The air curling
between us gray
heavy and mineral.

She said, it’s done
into her sleeve
blood and gristle gone.

My speech inaudible
through pillows and pills
words only and all.

Light sidles lank
over rumples once crisp
cradled cavern and sob.

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