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Permission slips

.

They went home in our mailboxes, in our folders

Tucked into our desks, handed to our languid hands

And they meant something good, always.

Going to see “The Phantom of the Opera.”

Going to see “Les Misérables.” Going whale watching

But not seeing whales, only dolphins leaping

In a synchronized arc, but you didn’t see them either

Because you were in the cabin, sea-sick.

Permission to go to Africa, permission to go to France

Permission to say no and say yes and say maybe.

The slips become invisible after a while.

They are made of air, of the breath that expends

From hurried lungs and cracked lips.

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Those last three lines - such a gorgeous turn!

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Thank you, Lisa! As usual, you work magic with these prompts. I admire it so much!

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Oh, this ending. So beautiful, Margaret!

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Thank you, A! Sometimes I don’t see the ending to a poem coming until it arrives and my hands go still. I love that feeling.

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Yes! Exactly!

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This is sweet, Margaret. I agree with our colleague poets, the ending is a marvelous twist, line that last sharp turn on the roller coaster you just weren’t expecting.

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Thank you, Larry! You guys got the poem practically as soon as I typed it; I’m excited to see what else comes up during revision.

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