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Paper Boats

We remember our lost futures in Fall
as beauty breaks from the living
and color vanishes into the dark
uncolor of Night. We smell the dead
on her black shield. Memories take
us by the throat. We wait for another chance.
Now we are ready. The chance will fall
to others to take into their arms living
chilfren. Our dead open us in the dark.

--- from the poem "Choices".