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Her mind a colander,
dripping cold diamonds
she sparkled in the sun.
Her dreams became
depressed and muddied,
the story never won.

Each threaded pierce
brought blood,
while she watched stitches unravel.
No matter her pleading, life dissolved.

She watched out the window,
children gaily tagged the other.
Sounds of beach laughter
drowned by the bluejay squawk.

Where do the lizards travel
and the bugs who get in the way?
Why do the robins, nest threaded,
return to a barren chest?

The beaver leaves his hollow,
a snake disappears into the sands,
she wallows in a fantasy
finding a possible last stand.

Her family loved her crazy quilts,
lying on her lap,
what once was starkly white
became her heart, stitched from shattered china.

Poetry

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