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Sorrow did you follow me

outside. I thought you’d

like to stay indoors awhile.


I know you: a Roman copy

but you’ve the look and feel


impenetrable marble of the real

thing itself. Sorrow won’t you

stand with hands where I can


see before you lay them on me.

Your touch like the tap


on my childhood head,

when someone says, Get up get up,

it’s time for you to run. 



    hilary dobel

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