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Dance
I can almost hear the crashing,
plants closing up, trees
sucking back their leaves.
A rash of bees in the tall
sage tasting everything purple.
In the house someone's
stomping around, through
the deep underbrush and
into the mind, someone's
tramping. When I am dragged
down, let the legs
dance uncontrollably, wine
light spilling across
the table and floor.
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