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A Poem a Day to Millennium 2 September 1999
 

DANCE

Outside, beyond the curtain of sand
Trees laugh.
This life is a phantom's dance.
Ghosts and friends hold hands, pass.

We jig.
We are in a unison
Way beyond our fathoming.
We arise. We plant.
We are organelles in a green blood's dance.

The caller is fast.
He slurs "tobacco, cattle, teachers, chance."
We are partners in a green blood's dance.
 

- Matt. Meyers

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