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March 2, 2018

‘Encroachment’, by Mary Marie Dixon

Wedged between sky and river
The birch, plaiting scarred spines, joins
Ochre leaves to Cirrus clouds.

In the wedge of bed and window
Your wounded limbs endure
A throbbing rhythm to misting dew

Autumn wraps a sultry cage
Of alizarin crimson.
She entwines the rising bone

To breach the slough of heaven
Branches thunder and crack
Under heavy snow 

And escape still enclosed in 
Huey blues Your mind warps 
And wraps itself with morphine