This Far South

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THIS FAR SOUTH


About once every two years belief 

sticks overnight and quiets


the dead. Etched in white, the woods

don't make us choose between


forest and trees. Our soles let us know 

exactly where we’ve been already, 


where we’ve yet to go, and the road 

behind the house is hushed 


as schools close—who would dare

to venture knowing in these conditions?


Over a steaming packet of quick mix

someone says it’s hard to believe


there are people out there who live

in these conditions all the time. 

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