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  • Writer's pictureAnastazia Zander


How many tears

will be lost today—

If the ocean dried up

could it be refilled?

A salted downpour

spreads over the earth

drenching open space,

tilling terrain for aches.

Liquid seeds sprung

from memories grow

in the dark of night.

A weeping willow

crawls into our pillows,

drenching dreams

to format forebode.

As water rises

and sorrow overflows

we slip,



further from dry land.

How many minds

will drop to deeper depths—

How many bodies will drown

in their lachrymose sea?

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