Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.
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He walked the fence at evening, not because the wire had changed, but because wind, cattle,
They asked me to say something. As if the right words exist.
The eulogy is the hardest poem: you must condense a life into minutes, make a room full of crying people laugh at least once.
After everyone goes home, the cups remain half-full, chairs turned toward conversations
We signed beneath your photograph, our names suddenly evidence that we had stood in that room.
Someone left a coat on the back pew, navy wool, one loose button,
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