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alone with my daughter in the house when there are leaves she ignores me at the window the closest she'll get i have to get in her face the winter snow we'll be buried hey hey pretty baby woody guthrie's daughter cathy died in a fire lucia stops at the top of a step or a curb a dust bowl and the ceiling fan rhythm the weather roils on boiling heat or mean cold I smell tangerines and taste watermelons the chill on my tongue and the rocking of a child Philippe Shils is a physician assistant in Decatur, Illinois. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Alba, BODY, Elimae, Hyperlexia Journal, Rattle, Sixth Finch, and elsewhere. contact
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