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21 tremblay Bill Tremblay The Second Sun At last, dawn. Through my easter window houses spawn & winter wheatfields that ripened last summer are paved over now to be fallow god knows how many generations til we break down lonesome for other-than-human-kind. Dense light kindles on the glass. I'm drawn upward on its spiral stairs. At the top, I remember the dream, someone with flaxen hair was mending my old black suit with magic weaving. I'm what your friend looks like inside, the angel said. The pins of ice sleeking off roofs in stinging streaks through your drunk legs as you trudged under Orion, dogged by the star of faded love are beads of water now. Floating in space the planets shine like a diamond string & as the fifth one sparks into place, it will burst into flame, the second sun. The Christmas tree by the garden fence, flutters its tinsel in the wind like a gift unopened. A thousand winter suns shine in my face, my life's second sun awakes. ...

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