The Age of Shadows




It could have been her high school shadow
she chased. The cut of her profile
and the mail carried school-girl style
said eighteen.

She used to capture shadows of leaves.
Barely breathing, she waited for the sun
to burn blue-tinted prints onto paper,
then stowed them

in the shoebox with her second grade
silhouette. Light faded long pinned memos
on the bulletin board, and she wished
her shadow

that skirted the office walls could be stored
in the box, too.



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