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Lexington Poetry Month

After A Month


We carried our poetry in our arms, outside
in the summer sun, where they watched heat
and alternate rain. The month drove on
and our poems thrived in the daylight
and glistened under the waxing and waning,
the equinox. If it could always be like this,
our hidden market, where instead of the everyday
tasks of selling and buying, we could continue
our trade, swapping stories and snapshots
like family members, our anonymous reunion.

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