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Burgi Zenhaeusern

A certain brightness

Icy droplets against off-whites
bead along the maple’s slender

among the dry-brown
azalea twitch and hop.


             You bustle and shuffle
             as I try to be still—

                                       small irritations
             many times a day. Warmth

                                       through the ducts.

We wear soft layers, stay
inside mostly.
                         I ask
my love for you often.


             The droplets shimmer
             glass-clear in low light.

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