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Poems
by
Karen Luke Jackson

Porch Rhapsody
The pianissimo roll begins, leaves rustling
in the stillness of a late, lazy afternoon, builds
until ferns and firs, oaks and locusts hum.

Blue Bloods
Upturned in the sand, a horseshoe
crab flails the air, its curved carapace
formed more than 400 million years

A Triptych on ...
What’s heaven like? Mama asked three weeks
before she died. She was sitting
on a red couch, frail, her eyes closed.
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