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I’d speak if I wasn’t afraid of inhaling

A memory I want to forget

Like I trusted the world which wasn’t mine

The hollyhock in the tall vase is wide awake

And feelings are only overcome by fleeing

To their opposite. Moisture and dirt

Have entered the space between threshold and floor

A lot is my estimate when I step on it

Sorrow can be a home to stand on so

And see far to: another earth, a place I might know

[I’d speak if I wasn’t afraid of inhaling]

Fanny Howe

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