• Tricia D. Wagner

Set the Night Singing #2.53

I am not one,

I’ve lived not once,

since I was born,

such stars have wheeled.

In every hamlet

where I’ve slept

a piece of who

I am sleeps, still.

My figure, person-like,

in glass,

but by the memory

truer known -

contorted form

by all that’s passed,

each home has laid -

joint, bone, joint, bone.

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