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Poems by Evie Shockley

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waiting on the mayflower

... “what, to the american slave, is your 4th of july ...

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where you are planted

...   one hundred degrees in the shade : we settle into still pools of humidity, moss- ...

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— shall become as —

... the night before the full moon ...

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lifeline

...   puddle calls forth the child whose name, the mother ...

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her tin skin

... my   sculptor should have made ...

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on new years eve

...   struggle with passions for sway, the mind wends ...

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pantoum: landing, 1976

... re melting: you could dance underwater and not get wet: ...

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from The Lost Letters of Frederick Douglass

... What sham, what shabby love could I offer you, so ...