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Poems

BECKY VARLEY-WINTER Stick Insects now I’m suffering from excess walking in dragonfly dress down a street in late May thinking there are insects that mimic mosses, curled in furtive filaments I could live many lives without regret. Happiness is in our sadness and sadness is in our joy, inside its chrysalis, this quixotic host. The necklace of seeds around my throat clicks into a new design; there used to be so many insects that at night their eggs fell from the trees in a hard rain you could hear for miles around there is so much in the world there is so much world

63 The Poetry Review

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