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Untitled
October 27, 2015
The crop’s end, It fell the last.
Dust encircles our one-room house.
Plaid wool plaster our mouths,
gasping for a taste of clean air.
My family lay breathless.
It fell the last; so were we.
© Steve S., Marblehead, MA
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This is written in a Korean poetic form known as sijo.