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Windows Without Scars

And when I tell my mother
in the autumn kitchen
the war was fought
for my education

her fingers carve space
into a room without seams
and she nods like a priest
who can't recall

the bread made with ashes
the penance she asks for
the days in her belly
waiting to be born

My questions dry out
become the dust
blowing through her voice
and I see three beggars

in gray wool dancing
circling the coffin
singing charity
will save you from death

 

©1999 John Guzlowski

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