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Tiny Women


The tiny women
muster green, leaf

They do not celebrate more

They will not hill or pillow

The tiny women slip
under doors, window
walls, disturb

They forage time, rest
at attention, stir
up stalled air

Together, they lift
dust, ashes, build

In breaks they
see through
(there   there)

The tiny women do
not walk on air

They tread light


Martha Collins

The Massachusetts Review

Fall 2013


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