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Autumn in the City (One Hundred Years)
The air is thick with the burning islands.
I wake in the morning to a dry throat.
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Spring in the City (Year Ten)
Look at him looking at her. He
watches her fingers, deftly tucking back
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Winter in the City (Year One)
All is returned to dust.
Every breath is taken back by a jealous
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Summer in the City (Day One)
You must have returned, must be
living, even now, within the city walls,