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Posts by Madeline Male
14 posts by this author
You are reading this poem now.
I wrote it “now,”
but by the time you’re reading it,
I will have written the poem in the past.
Oh, the functions of time!
Past, now, soon . . .
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Distracting myself,
busy all day,
cannot accept another day lost to
time.
Time—
the old enemy,
yet friend,
it makes me a day older
yet wiser.
Another day of my life is
gone.
Past.
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The backseat car window
holds a view
I never want to lose:
A normal-looking house.
Our house.
Becoming
smaller
smaller
smaller
until I can barely see it in the
horizon
of blue, sympathetic ...
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Goodbye, Earth:
rising
rising
I am rising
above the grass,
and falling toward the moon.
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with not a star in sight
so let us make them:
. . . .
. .
.
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