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PassingOver
PASSING OVER
–for R. Davis

I try to see the sunshine in
the trees and not the bugs.

I try to leave no scars,
but lately I feel my body

is becoming one. Ugly
enough to some, but a sign

to me that I am living as
fully as a soul can live.

Where I go next, I enter
raw, as the moon enters

nightly. I think I can hear
the angels in the Holy City

singing. They sound like
lovely birds. I think this

boatman has now become a
captain. I mount my horse.

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