Keith Snyder
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Haiku for a boy in yellow

That sound is thunder
ricocheting in the street.
I'll teach you to count.

That sound is Mozart
on a laptop on a bed.
Hear how dry and close?

Your breathing and mine.
Rain tapping the windowsill.
Cloth slides against cloth.

I ask for patience.
It doesn't come. Just temper
or serenity.

You used to cry a
certain way, but now you don't.
One, one thousand. Two--

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