Recuperations Shania Richards
Here Police cars and ambulances Burn their wheels on black tarmac: They come and go Past the quay Where the river rolls its tongue Licking hulls of pale boats afloat The dull whine of ambulances drones on.
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Apartments She approaches the door of her home, past the quay where sailboat masts sway, stranded Walking through endless roads with great carelessness, swaying as though vehicles on tarmac roads manipulate and translate. A breeze-torn flag snarls, staring above a
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