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burying winter
ekphrastic for Sanjo István’s 1928 ‘Funeral in Zebegény’
we’re burying winter
but it goes on
the sky is brief
the unsafe ice
faces wept past
ceremony
it buries us all
bare bare the branches
no bell chimes
we have buried winter before
tenderly tenderly
coffin aloft
all snow
it’s just around the corner
the village where we’ve left it
we’ve come so very far
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