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Tryst Poetry by Daniel Sumrall |
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Tryst Poetry by Daniel Sumrall |
| A Wretched Hand |
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A wretched hand trembles always and touch remains dead as ice; these, then, are the hands of arms begging for collapse to come into them, their soft brittle skin folds like the Bible's peel of leaves turning from the cruel condemnation to the glow of grace, a fallen caress. © 2002 Daniel Sumrall
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