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I would love to hear from you. Please contact me at: adamdfisher@optonline.net |
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MERCY KILLING The birch creaks and groans in spring gusts, sparse leaves spotted with leaf minor shake dryly as my saw rips through tender bark scarred with bronze borer, revealing rings--twenty or so, pale yellow wood, deep umber on the back of its bark. The stump conjures up amputated limbs from war or mayhem, seeps sap like blood on my saw, on my hands: Forgive me. |