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A SIGH IN THE DARK

Into
The starless night—
A frail gondola drifts
From a storm-tossed Venice, to return
No more.

KIN
Sadly
The wind laments
Through the barren desert.
My soul is desolate; I, too,
Make moan.

THE CLOSED HEART


Call not . . .
Sharp brambles cast
Deep shadows on the stone door
Of my hall . . . O strange one, why linger
Still there?

by Angela Manalang Gloria

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