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The X-Ray

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Mornings, the body’s old
winter monochrome gives
its image of extraordinary cold
to a million hives—

I could imagine a lanthorn
as it swallows its strange light and gleams
from within as if reborn
when the bees come.

Source: Poetry (September 2008)

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This poem originally appeared in the September 2008 issue of Poetry magazine

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The X-Ray

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