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Poem: We are all Elijah on the mountain

 

 

 

The still, small voice

is still

an itch in the corner

of the skull,

a catch of breath,

a comma, a hesitancy,

a heartbeat,

a hush,

a scratching at the edge,

a bloom in the storm,

a sideways glimpse,

small

as

a

spirit.

 

Patrick T. Reardon

11.22.2018

 

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