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Second Nature: James Lindesay’s Poetry

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NEW ENGLAND

This autumn, its rituals
return in our heads mostly:
grinning pumpkins, the livid
memory in flaring reds
and yellows of the maples,
the fireworks, the sugary
doorstep hits. As the glass falls
we are looking out, windows
our new cinemas of grief.

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Unknown's avatarAuthor James LindesayPosted on 21st Oct 202022nd Oct 2020

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