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from the March 2010 issue: Correspondences in the Air: International Poetry

Lockjaw

I walk toward the mill
To meet my quiet father
He walks on grass-covered paths
His foot in a child's shoe

The mill got swept away by the river
Two wars have since gone by
Father was taken away later on
Soon no one knows that either.

March 2010
Correspondences in the Air: International Poetry
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