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TWO POEMS / Gary Young If I could take my son to a city off the map, if I were married even in my dreams, we'd Uve by a lagoon where water eddies through the marsh grass, where tuUp fields are visible beyond a trestle, where they're fishing. Boulders roU and chime beneath the current. The tiny spiked caps of the chestnuts whirr as they fall. I've whispered to the dead; I've prayed in anger. This inadvertent music is a grace. When he sounds his one shrUl note, even the hawk is a songbird. 252 ยท The Missouri Review ...

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