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

Amy Barone


 

Sapphire Sighs

Weeping beech trees' branches
brush against the sun's carpet

as I endure the hazards
of overthinking—I deified

someone when she lost her voice
and freedom in golden years.

Traumatized by the cry—
not a frenzied elk bugling—

but a deep wail and dry tears
in the moment she realized

life would never be the same.
I slay this fierce bout of grief,

banish the question no one could answer—
What did she understand?