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Sunday morning

February 6, 2017

Get up before noon and write three poems
the lord wouldn’t want heard
in the pews of his house

the devil laughs and doesn’t care
he’s gone out walking today
the sun is bright
and the day is fine

there are words on the tip of my tongue
and the tips of my fingers
and they are whispering to be freed

in ink and skin
and promises and time
will let us spend them
and share them with the day

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