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A Poem: Fireflies 

It’s dusk, Pharaoh, my brother’s aging
Siamese and I are in our small, Harlem,
backyard. A few fireflies join us, then
more and soon, like stars, or people
pleading, there are too many to count.
I wonder if Pharaoh sees the fireflies,
he certainly no longer sees the mice.

Speaking of...

  • A poem by Geordie Edel.

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