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Poetry > A Geography of the Heart

Feast of Annunciation

Dumbstruck by an angel
on my way to paradise,
I left my suitcase standing,
abandoned maidenhood
to follow those softspoken wings.
The leaves of my book blew
open in the wind, the ink
in my pen ran dry.
I had no more to say
except a lullaby,
so I traded in my sharp-tipped quills
for pillows made of down.

Published on 13/01/2014


  L. A. Wolanskyj

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