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Haiku Free Verse Prosies
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The poet has been napping.
She wakes
to find her bed full of snakes--
No, those are only rolls of fat
collecting about her--
No, that is only a nightmare.
She walks outside,
the smell of Indian Summer in the air.
People carry glass bottles.
They speak in loud voices.
I am not listening.
No, I am watching her walking.
Look at her silhouette in the streetlight.
Soon she will be out of sight.
Frances Donovan
1992
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