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Poetry | September 2012

Ash Wednesday

By Melissa Dickson

By late afternoon they are children again,
watching the Disney Channel, wondering
what will be served for dinner. That moment
under the priest’s thumb long forgotten
while the ashes still shadow each forehead.
It is the imposition of unthinkable
stillness, a reminder of twilight lost
to dusk. Whatever starlight you are, child,
you are first and last dust.

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