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Brian Henry, from Quarantine :: Contagion

from Contagion (2)

In that field on the earth at dawn.
Does not care about the bodies there.
And my wife my son and I were growing.
Even though the moon had not moved.
And tracking the sun coming over the trees.
Where I could not be dead could not be.
Breathing as I was the air above.
Watching my wife and son without.
Instead of where I found myself.
Where death is not an is.
As if the thinking could bring me.
Beside my wife and son who seemed.
Beneath my back where I lay.
By the time the sun touched the grass.