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Simple Gifts Lean against me once more, your hair Pillowed on my heartbeat. It’s been nearly Nine months since you died: time to be Born again and fill your lungs with light, Every new breath an ache and slow release. This year’s late, misshapen Christmas tree Stands aslant at the window, the strung-out bulbs Blinking red and green and blue. Soon we’ll bring The family presents down and spread them under The low boughs of the pine in shaky heaps. I have no gift for you except this wounded memory. And what have you brought back for me but yourself? The gift shops of the dead stay closed forever. It’s midnight, and the fire feeds on old familiar wood. Lay your head against me, love, and calm my crazy heart. 95 • • • ...

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