Grave Clothes

morning lay just beyond the stone the air washed clean of pain and sorrow in the darkness fingers brushed against linen smoothed folded over set apart for John bare feet on cool stone and the gilded glow of a new day

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A Night of Rowing

Tonight we cross the waters black as coal. We row beneath the stars we blotted out. The only sound—the sloshing of the waves, relentless echoes of the knife-like pain. We row alone like exiles in the dark. And now you speak who know my troubles best. You feel with me the wounds that plague my […]

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