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To those who aren't concerned

Name:
dodge_the_moon
Lately, I've become accoustomed to the way
The ground opens up and envelops me.
Each time I go out to walk the dog.
Or the broad-edged silly music the wind
Makes when I run for the bus...

Things have come to that.

And now, each night I count the stars,
And each night I get the same number.
And when they will not come to be counted
I count the holes they leave.

Nobody sings anymore.

And then last night, I tiptoed up
To my daughter's room and heard her
Talking to someone, and when I opened
The door, there was no one there...
Only she on her knees, peeking into

Her own clasped hands.

~Amiri Baraka

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