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Blackberry Jam MAG
Time opens all wounds
I remember his voice
on the answering machine
his lips were so sweet
like mother's blackberry jam.
I lick my fingers
and yearn for that taste.
Needles of rain sew my hair
flat against my head
as the clouds cover my sorrow
and the buzz in my head increases
the sweet melody of words
sing the joy of knowing him.
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