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50 years
at the cutting edge
of poetry publishing

Doris Kareva, from Shape of Time

'The days melt...'

The days melt with nightmarish
slowness, flowing into night
equally anguished.

Captivity from the cask
trickles, trickles.

One doesn't even count,
two is hardly more than one,
the law of the land is three,
and beyond that one loses count.