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Poetry
Mary-Patrice Woehling
He’s moved his body crossways in the bed.His bony legs are thrust between the bars.His knees are scored with crusted scabs and scars,But time has not effaced his striking head.His urine soaks his undershirt; the sheetBeneath him’s drenched. He will be hard to shift.I roll him on his side
Poetry
Mary-Patrice Woehling

You know me, and You love me: dark and light.