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title
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Amy Barone


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Plume

We were playful gazelles in an early era
before the songs of my sisters died.

A circle of three now forms a ring of fire—
no end in sight for volcano after volcano.

Smoldering smoke and ash sears. Little relief
from natural springs; Yellowstone is far from here.

Unsettled distress, dispersed over years
since our mother's death, rises like lava
from Mt. Etna, which erupted last week.

I'm Planet Earth, was once sky.
The conniver became Uranus the Ice Giant
and the babe now Venus the Morning Star,

who no longer needs a night-light.
She covets the dark, is immune from fright.