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Night Vigil

July 26th, 2012 by Magdalena Tabor
The screen at the window
Creates no barrier
Between us.
I am vulnerable.
The night is theirs.
There is no comfort
In the cry of the coyote.
Multiply that tenfold.
Their language defies meaning.
Frustration.
Agitation.
Hunger.
All three.
The rumble of thunder,
A bass to the melody
Of malady.
The lightening quickening
In my veins.
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