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from Welcome to My Garden by Barry B. Wright

Copyright © 2019–2020 Barry B. Wright

Chapter Eleven
Another Row He Goes

Crooked fingers steer ahead.

Another row he goes.

Spinal entrails trail behind,

like autumn’s earth before.

Dreams—long in tooth—

like swirling leaves scattered

in their fateful flight.

Each clouded breath’s opportunity

misspent words for blight.

Another row he goes....






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