Who can sayat the dawn of a birthday?If we are born with goodness and trustwhat remains after so much launderingof oneself?Live. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. When I was youngI had a blanket, white with pink and blue flowerscotton with satin edging pink and soft and shinycomfort to a small cheek on a dark night.Her name wasContinue reading “At 53”
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Stacey Murphy __ Poems 