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Loop

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Curled up in bed,
I’m young
in the old way.
 
               •
 
One
continuous stroke

without lifting
the pen

as if

“stem, tendril,
stem tendril”

were the words
of a commandment.
 
               •
 
My next
elliptical loops

read “Praise.”

Word

deciphered

at a snail’s
pace.

Source: Poetry (March 2013)

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This poem originally appeared in the March 2013 issue of Poetry magazine

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Loop

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