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Remi Recchia

Peeling wax like chocolate
candy wrapper stuck to no
breast, hand buried small
inside old pocket under lemon
moon—how do you crowd-
source grief? Quietly in droves
like swans and sheer glass
towers kissing hillside,
quietly in lost buttons and
field-less refrigerator magnets.
Ask for a song and get a psalm
in return. Keep it in the winter.