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For One Whose Love Has Gone

Brenda Hillman

There was a crack 
  in ecstasy; it split the oak
with flamless fire. 
 A raptor left good bones
in the divided tree  (the spine?
   of a mouse?)  & then flew off
    for a muffled sanctuary . . .

Some say get
    over it, but there you are,
surrounding it.  Slant sun 
    shines in.  Bring it along, 
bone-reader, bring the banquet— 

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