What You Learn Without Even Knowing It
The crabapple tree below the library,
windows and branches both filled with starry night—
fallen fruit that deer will nuzzle for in winter
all around my feet; me leaning against the bark,
then stepping into the path, wanting things I could not have.
When my first marriage was ending
in a little house in a wintry woods,
I’d think about Ohio like it was a star;
a place I’d never been,
a place I was pretty sure had once existed.
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