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It sits with itself in its arms. Out of

the depth of its shame it starts singing

a hymn of pure shame, surging in the throat.

To hold a true note could be everything.

Getting the hang of itself would undo it.

An awkward lyric

Denise Riley

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Poem of the Week

Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld

I, May I Rest in Peace

translated from the Hebrew written by
Yehuda Amichai