FALL/ WINTER 2014

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Lenny Dellarocca

BUTTER KNIFE IN RED SHIFT

I removed it from the kitchen drawer so quietly
I heard that old clock ticking in another room.

Old August mornings in its gleam,
hard butter on soft bread,
my grandmother’s hands rinsing it with soap and water
summer after summer after summer.

And those smoked days of dusk?
Blue trains gone red down the godless track of time.



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