her bags were packed yesterday--
kicking heels knocking over the traces
as the sun rose, passport
at the ready, thinking of
all those days, rose-hued,
strong on a thin chain of gold,
looped long around her neck,
promised to her as the
frogs croaked in their
solemn chorus and
dinner burn to a cinder,
smoke signals seen for
miles, a declension of all
those paragraphs, the
sentences diagrammed so that
all can understand them
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