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Poetry

Waters of Dust

  1. Hanging up on a cross;
  2. Dripping from toes, my dross.
  3. Buried in waters of dust,
  4. Chipping away at crust.
  5. Breathing on me, a dove
  6. Sent from the moon above.
  7. Tending fin, wing, and claw.
  8. Eating good fruit I saw;
  9. Nibbling on blood and brain.
  10. Riding on wheel of pain.
  11. Farming thorns from the brink,
  12. Wanting for crumb and drink.

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By Kim Siever

Kim Siever is an independent journalist based in Lethbridge, Alberta. He writes daily news stories, focusing on politics and labour.

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