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[ I am fallow these January days ]

I am fallow these January days
too long waiting too long thin
uncertain tentative and drawn
too long insensitive and icy.
Skin and bones I rattle
in pants too big they drag
and bag along my vanished curves
or dreams too big they fold
and suffocate themselves
no room for new or old.
All glazed over eyes
and weary limbs a prayer I pray
a rhyme I say to end
this long cold dreary day:
now I lay me down to sleep
I pray on high my soul to keep.
I'll lock it up with stale grain
the sour wineskins and rotted meat saved
for Easter's pagan dance.

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