Black Locust Road

When Nature needs to speak, she will // Reach into her washbag of wet roots // Pull back handfuls of filberts, gambol // The dice down a road // Lined with Black Locust trees

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Unheimlich

What she regrets most about her life // Is that the brash piece of siding that always swings // Apart from the rest of the house // Gives it all away // About what is inside