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page 14   

Ferris Gilli, USA

Cursed Soil

A ton of leaves and pine straw to be raked. Grass dead, azaleas sickly in spite of nurturing. Last of the ligustrums lie brittle on a trashpile. Even the junipers are turning yellow. There is a curse on the soil in this yard. Potted plants flourish, while anything transplanted into the ground languishes within a week. Still, hope dies hard. A breeze rises as I pick the spot for some new color.

I prepare the earth
for planting red pansies . . .
the hemlock sighs


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