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Chimes Descending John M. Anderson
Tower clock bulked to a beech trunk pierced with candles for the three kings this evening, wax weeping down the tree’s jowls. Children dance in starched white dirndls a ring around the tolling square, tiny gears in their silken hair, rumpled hose sweeping every footfall dandelion milkweed tube— foop, foop and the long spring’s gruff inhalation. |
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