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Poor uncle of Lady Slipper and Trillium
hiding in mossy bank and the folds of dense pine
my hands parting ferns find you
erect in your own house, your furred body pale
as a candle lighting your own canopy—
I will whisper to you little prince of pine
needle and trailing vine: ‘Stay, you are not alone.
There is enough water. We both can drown.’
copyright 2017
Kelley
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