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In a room

Judith Lofley

 

 

Unaccustomed

as they are

to their own existence

they tread without sound

casting neither shadow nor spell

from the pall of blame

as they pass unseen exits

skulking and sacrificing

in order to comply

with their own faulty bearings.

The carnage of childhood and centuries

stalks and haunts from corridors and coffins.

 

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