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A Poem: Note: 

Reduced to their lowest-common,
the words I whispered in his ear
could be described only but in
reproduction—

The inflection altered here and there,
but what does an “I love you” do—

I’d say time is a river,
but language is its own avalanche
our coffin-envelope,
signed—sealed—delivered,
I love you.

Speaking of...

  • A poem by Emma Stamm.

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