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Words ©

Laura Friedlander
Lerwick, Scotland
2006

Some days words roll up the beaches
like round pebbles they have been
worn smooth

Words placed in your pockets
carried home
like sweets stuck to the lining
sticky, soft.

I like the words that are
wisps of straw tangled
in the heather of a hillside
words that scratch you
with their dry stalks

The words in the sky that are
huge feathered wings
of everything



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