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Ana Cagnoni
gray dawn --
I wake up and find
no traces
of last night's
conversation
when
did this muffled
version
of myself
become myself?
we have
breakfast in silence
outside a heavy
fog, something
just isn't there
as the fog
disappears
the distant notion
of something torn
within
sorting raisins
out of the granola
one by one
my little pile of morning
expectations
it's growing dark
as we search in vain
for the path
that used to lead us
to a good conversation
trees let go
of their last leaves -
plucking my eyebrows
I too dream
of Spring renovation
done with
laundry and dishes
I can't seem
to wash away
regrets
Ana Cagnoni was born in 1977 and lives in Buenos
Aires, Argentina.
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