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Mausoleum


by Miles Tepper


 

Take time to catch your dream

like a child grabs at fireflies

for the false comfort of

their cold light

 

You see the marble slab

beyond outstretched fingers

in this room which hides the rotting

flesh once loved

           —    you might as well be blind

 

Held in by walls of ice

you sense the light that warms.

 

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