The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton
Long have I contemplated this swerve, this curl
where thrumming so often swells -
bony fragments and ligature safeguarding the essence of life,
those quiet nuances and gestures of both laughter and tears.
Perhaps it is only a physical manifestation
of undetermined origins -
or maybe it is a slowly returning memory
of once-forgotten wings.
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