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Salmon Head
By Tyrone Barrozo

Take this pain of mine 

of heart and mind 

a thought I abdicate 

as I wander the wild alone. 

To look up to familiar stars, 

to remain still in a nest 

next to robin eggs, 

to whisper childhood tunes 

into the hearts of willow trees 

that we once knew, 

or to descend 

like an eager autumn leaf 

because of a memory— 

these yearnings haunt me. 

I ask the echoes of a dampened cave 

if it fears what lies in its darkness 

and if it would follow a voice 

halfway into its dwelling. 

But not a single foot is set forward 

and the puddles at the mouth 

remain still as I wonder 

what lies beyond that veil.

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