a cradle and a darkened glass
the moss of our extinction
hoarded here
the brush of skin and ash and hair
their fall a cry of loss
made infinitely small and rare
the tree that holds a family
comes to this
a hand-made dress
of Limerick lace
the bones of heirs
laid down to fade, to rest
Marjorie Lewis-Jones (New South Wales)
An independent poetry journal. Watch your step.
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