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Vol. I, No. VIPoetryMorgan Collado

The Chapbook

Winter

  • grief

He said my eyes looked likeWinterEyes so cold they scaldedEyes that could hack awayLimbsWith FrostBiteEyes that could create thatTinglySleepyWarm feelingsThat sets in before HypoThermic deathA death, he said,That I will happily submit tooFor only in dyingAre we reborn

About this poem

First published on A Trip to the Morg in .

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