Dana-Maria Onica: Untitled

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Here was a lake surrounded by trees—oaks, as far as I remember.

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Where is the tall grass? Where is the wind?

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There is nothing left, only this sun killing all the seeds, to the last one, and us, its witnesses.

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dying face—

the many open mouths

of the dry land

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by Dana-Maria Onica

Petrosani, Romania