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Wednesday, November 16, 2016
It
is
We'n'sday,
when forgotten
words hold forgotten
letters. Still, we carry them all:
Aeneas, Anchises, the statues of their statues.
The tower wobbles above us
as we flee the flames.
We always
forget
some
one.
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Elena Johnston
Finding the rhythm and rhyme of the gloriously ordinary.
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