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  1. Last night’s wet snow sticks here
    or there, creating alpine trails
    beneath the shadow of low walls,
    leaving blank spaces where the wind
    has drawn its hasty maps and then
    like some cartographer unsure
    of where the continents might lie,
    erased them… In one of these
    pockets drawn as wintry latitudes,
    bergamot heads confer, a little
    brotherhood of toques blanches.

    ~ Luisa A. Igloria
    02 08 2011


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