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Poetry #269
(published March 9, 2006)
by Sue Miller
I take it on faith,
rejecting the negative
certainty he has handed me
while phantoms of future
turn wooden on the lathe of fact.
With hope, I postulate the present,
despite November in my heart
and December beating at my breast.
The kindling of his kindnesses burns steadily;
newly-turned truths go up like ghosts
and all that's left is love.

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