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Gayle Elen Harvey

Mistaken Identity


Someone you love dies suddenly as blood loses its way
to the pulse, as a plane loses altitude, blooms
fire, plunging toward the unbearable —

Death was wrong.
It was someone else he hunted
but someone you love dies, leaving you grief,
its declarative sentence, rowboat
taking on water, hundreds
of cuts in your throat —

Grief with the lid off,
bottom falling out —
its nap and shift destroying in you forever
all that is green.

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