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74 Enkidu’s Lament It’s the first warm day of spring. The robins are back and the forsythia is blooming. The sky is painfully blue. I’m punished for the slightest emotion. That “painfully”—I take it back at the cost of an arm. But what’s an arm when I’ve got another for holding you? Mistakes are measured here in body parts. This air I breathe is thick with souls that fill me with what they’ve lost. So few bodies remain, lingering at the stile, forgetting their names. I would say nothing forever if silence were forbidden. deNiord text-2.indd 74 11/10/10 10:40 AM ...

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