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JANE BLAIKIE

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But I would

 

While you are still

ambulant

a word now precious

and precarious

an ambulance of fear

sirens through the frame.

I ask without wanting to beg

but I would

for your notebooks

the way you talk now.

Others circle

for your posters

collective history

an exhibition

and another to come.

A book.

I say, ‘We’ll be going

through your rubbish next.’

But I would.

 

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