There is a harsh magnolia hush
Between the branches of these trees
I haven't heard before,
A shiver in the silence
I wear around my shoulders--
A pearling scarf to block that wintry chill,
That frost that is continuation.
It has become the time for
A strict transparency of fingertips,
A trembling of long-bitten tongues
Beneath eyes thrown wide at the corners
Of rooms never visited
Behind glass never seen.
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