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Albino

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A lot more of than thought, unsought, come out white.
Lemurs of Madagascar, and leopards sans spots.

Brilliant, I think, to spurn pigment and burn
in December light, a December filament.

No one would know if there’s snow in your hair,
or whether or not, when they knock, you are there.

Source: Poetry (May 2014)

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This poem originally appeared in the May 2014 issue of Poetry magazine

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Albino

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