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Stockholm by Janice D. Soderling wind-torn winter mud-tinged snow and despair some had beards some not I took them home undressed them only to cull some warmth a staccato clinking like a metronome seeking music or an ice jam in my frostbit veins as in inert brooks or icicle spikes reflecting the glare of winterbound eyes a city of stone staircases and frozen sun |
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