BLACK CAT POEMS
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The Forest of Dead Trees
I climbed up the rough mountain-side
Through the forest of dead trees.
I touched their smooth, stark limbs,
And learned much of the white beauty of death.
Whose taut, slender thigh was this?
And this, whose gracious throat?
O Life, you are not more beautiful
Than this silent, curving death is beautiful!
poems by Mark Turbyfill