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in the evenings
Folder:
My Poems i go through my rooms
like a witch watchman
mad as my mother was for
rattling knob and
tapping glass
ah, lady
i can see you now
our personal nurse
placing the iron
wrapped in rags
near our cold toes
you are thawed places and
safe walls to me as i walk
the same sentry
ironing the winters warm
and shaking locks in the night
like a ghost
