The slow fall of ash
far from the flame,
a residue of rain
on morning grass,
snow in still air,
wounds we have had,
dust on the sill there,
dew, snowflake, scab:
light, linger, leave
like a swatted fly,
trace to be grieved,
dot where it died.
from "Emma Enters a Sentence of Elizabeth Bishop’s" by William H. Gass
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