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standing
half hidden
among trees
whose shadows
bar the wood’s
perimeter edge
what is it you put me
in mind of
candystripes
flannelette
winter sheets
deck-chair canvas
school dresses
hard-boiled sugar
my sweets?
no none of these obsoletes
more the stare
of another assemblage
uniformed confined
silent in obligatory
identical stripes
Kim Crowder