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My heart sogged through
the days in a Stygian fog.
I drove around at night
naked full of agonized
silences and dwindling
abdications until there
was not much left to give
up but my camouflaged
wrath which I had vowed
to maintain to the end so
bitter was the taste of my
early grief, so naïve was I
in the early pain, so little
did I know that I would in
time come to own all of it.

This poem appeared in the March 1, 2012 issue of the magazine.