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by Ann Mortifee
There are healings that come
At the dark of the moon
Poultice-like
Your love
Sucks dark shadows of regret
To be released
Into the quiet silver of the night
There
Amidst the moonlit furrows
Of all that had not been
But might be yet
You touch my eyes
Swollen and unsure
Bewildered sorrows vanish
Beneath your hand
And I awake
To dream once more
copyright Ann Mortifee 1996
copyright Ann Mortifee 1996
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