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There's Something Quieter than Sleep
- University of North Texas Press
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22 THERE’S SOMETHING QUIETER THAN SLEEP I didn’t call the Hospice, only took my pew: dark-suited with a white corsage, a paper bent in two. A last gift still counts on my wrist the hours minutes make. When the teeth shear off the gears, I’ll drop it in the lake. It’s not as if he didn’t mostly try to do things right. I tender tears a few at a time, my losses amortized. ...