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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.
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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.
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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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