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Poetry: Shadow Mounds by Sarah Aldama


Stood on the stage of linoleum
Placed on the set angle, to speak
A poet I knew with little age,
Whose words were small and weak


I want to see above those shadow mounds
To wave at that tired young, man,
Then a sound from you and your tasteless
Tongue!


I may lie here and sit in this chair
Dusty and cold, but
I will not die without air—poet!


I cannot behold what He
Has yet foretold, if you have thrived
In the angst, the snaps; the refined
Reset where I stand, on this linoleum floor


Like a man

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