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Sculpting Death by Paul Rousseau


 

She reminds me of

A sculpture I saw somewhere, sometime,

Maybe an urn of tombs

In Cairo,

Or a carving

in the cobblestones of Venice,

But now she is a breath in the winds,

Her words like hieroglyphic pictograms

Suspended in the heavens,

Calling out at twilight.


 

Paul Rousseau (he/him/his) is a semi-retired physician and writer published in sundry literary and medical journals, and nominated for The Best Small Fictions anthology from Sonder Press, 2020. He is a lover of dogs, and is currently in Charleston, South Carolina. He longs to return home to the west.



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