Unday Poem by Fanny Howe

Unday



From no nowhere not near the sea
on blue field flax
the cemetery's absolutely solitary
you and you and a third

of a pound of bread
for supper in the refectory
where I would die of hunger
if you- if soon- if on this unday- one

undoing would be undone

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Fanny Howe

Fanny Howe

Buffalo, New York
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