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Shara Faskowitz
Red Sky at Morning
Here is sunlight,
red sky at morning, and I
take no warning but bend
my head intoxicated
by fields of flowers
dipped blue as sapphire seeds.
Here the canary sunlight
is God who made me
beautiful and ugly, God
who gave me an intaglio
of red sky gleaming past
the wake of dawn, fallen
as prisms to my hair, why
is my heart misshapen?
My monstrous limbs
which should blossom among
the heliotrope and lupine,
are swollen with the half-life
of memory. I limp insufficiency
and God when I fall,
the strongest arms to catch me,
the warmest hands to hold me
aren’t Yours, but a man’s
whose name the flowers whisper.
Shara Faskowitz

"Sophie's Tears" Terry Rentizpas
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