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From the shrinking plains
the cranes unfurl themselves, white
dresses on a backyard clothesline. They
pull free of their pins and fly
skyward among clouds until they are
white dresses and they fall
into the den of the wild
dog—the African painted wolf
pups who first shy away and then
snuff off the scent
of humanity--bite, tug
and tear the fabric to shreds,
the white threads that mothers take
up in their claws and teeth
and try so desperately to darn
the great wounds in the earth.
--Barbara Iobst
Please excuse working condition of site; undergoing an overhaul!
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