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Statue with Flowers
POETRY

lady of the harbour

a ghost with a beating heart

by Sage R

she’d never been so morbid before
this one burned to death in norway,
that one was obliterated 
by a submarine door
all the old boys and chattering wives
are simply no more,
and she’s the last of her ilk
she misses pouring me cookies and milk 
for breakfast;
shuffling around in grey dawns in silk nightgowns
mutely haunted by the cigar smoke
and forgotten dreams in the house 
her husband built.
not many years left for her,
she sighed
but a lot for me?
she doesn’t know
i fully expected to swallow a bullet
by seventeen;
i long to preserve her recipes
how she used to run on her knees 
her diligence in ironing out a crease;
all i hope is that you have nothing but peace
and quiet, content, restful sleep.

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