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Waiting 

A small girl
Sitting in a plastic chair
The kind with multicolored straps
That people use in their back yards
On the edge of a crooked road
Untraveled
Unmoving
Waiting
Knowing, in her dusty skin
That no one is coming
Still waiting
Because there is nothing else
Because the merest movement of her breath
Will break the chair

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Speaking of...

  • A poem by Shideh Lennon.

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