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Don't
parcrises

When I think of death I see
 1
a hand – pillow-like in plump inertia –
 2
thud dully onto wheel-worn carpet
 3
dropping what it held
 4
and making mess
 5
- for someone else to clean up now
 6
- as always.
 7

2 Jul 07


(define the words in this poem)
(18 more poems by this author)



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Comments:

nice rhythm.
 — unknown

Interesting. One of those poems that you have to think about for a few minutes. Like the style and originality.
 — unknown

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