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Lisa Fishman

Not in summer but in falling
turning to sum

and all the hills echoed

and I said whoever you are

is starfish a verb
or a hand flung over the eye

We were not being bombed
but made ill

and the little ones laughed

such as Jack a cat sat in the sun
if the planets have doors

then she, the sun, will wear a fine comb
to tooth the world into opening

Lisa Fishman

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