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desguised graces

of pages
I was garnered
three or four –
surely there you read me
for the poetry
between –

lulled
while fingers lingered
mute along my spine
as tender pulled
each fragile verse
of mysteries
redeemed

longing writ
to margins undefiled
but for the eager heart
in searching
an unread destiny –
flesh and blood
the shade of indigo

. . .