Post-Incarnate
P Patti Masterman
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I published my first book of poetry while in a cemetery;
On random stones, I positioned some leaves
with tears or drops of blood
Above every word included in my writing-
And then trailed wilted flowers diligently,
like dangling prepositions-
To show the many paths my lines would travel:
My leather may have worn thin, but the stories
Written there in dust and bone
will endure forever.
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