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Dispatch Detailing Rust

I was merely on
the cusp of growing
old when I shook
his hand, my enemy's
hand, twelve years
ago & secretly gloated
over its frailty, its liver
spots & now I own
two enemy hands
of my own.

Sometimes now, these
hands of mine stroke
a steel blue dream that
will instantly inhabit rust.
Then they regain sanity,
become old bluebirds
in the blue sigh of sky.

Adrian C. Louis

New Letters

Volume 79, No. 1

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