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Hosea, Single

Hosea 2:15 In January your keys keep the time, plink like antlers discarded in the foyer. House sealed tight as a covenant. I hold our truth with baby-fisted certainty, days stacked neatly as closed books on a calendar. Hours like the travel of the front porch rocker. In March, the month for war, you leave me. Reverse-alchemy. Gold, like youth, returned to dross. I start to date, trace the river after a hard rain mud-soak wash churning towards some lighted…
April 30, 2018