Modi's Monday
reaching
after The Big Trees, Paul Cezanne
free
to master lassoing her
his
orbited power an influence
even
when the winter wind spreads
farther
than she can run, alone
her
forest of emotion felling like
logs
set to be made into
tables
for lovers and replanted with
saplings
of prospects, together their
limbs
affixed with connection,
rivets
of remembering
sitting
by that Ohio River in summer
when
they were new and the world was fresh.
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