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11.
It's hard not to blame; but
how promising it looked on posters.
Miles of gold growing in fields
grew in us- And the stories
gossiped at the markt
under shade of elms and steeple-
Follow my heart’s desire, you said,
but my heart stopped for the numb eternity
between "Emigrate?" and "Yes”.
Now that I'm here, it's catching up.
12.
Moeder, your supplications
against cold arrived!
Knitted mitts, sweater
(its shoulder-wreath of snowflakes)
and the rooster tea-cosy.
Through your fingers,
wool gestures like a rosary.
I feel blessed.
13.
The window panes gave in
to last night's storm.
By morning our bed's
snowcovered.
14.
I should have drawn this:
a white face behind curtains
that can't close.
I couldn't have supposed
such black on white.
such a self.
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