The Gate

Those years after she lost
her memory she said she
mellowed as her hurt went
down through her bones.

Still she knew all the hidings
and when one was out of place
she awoke in the dark under
her worries and prayed

she hated she said when
someone did her like that
her ears keen on the gate
latch and the open and close

of the side door where they
escaped with such little
grasp of their own budding
sorrow like lily bulbs.

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