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In the morning
I write you love letters,
Letters that tell
how I dream of you
Pen to paper prolonging
these sweet invented
singular memories.

By afternoon
the pages sweat
with risk
of the plural
Apostrophes
implicating and vowels
incriminated against consonants
fearing circulation

In the evening
reduced
They are all
but
one dimensional folly
Attempts, callow
and
with cooled
intent, shredded

But tomorrow
I will wake
and
I will write you
another love letter
in the morning

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About the Author:

Portrait - Kirby ManiàKirby Manià has a doctorate in English and has studied at the University of York (UK) and the University of the Witwatersrand (Johannesburg, South Africa). She currently lectures at Wits University, teaching English and Critical Thinking to students in the Faculty of Engineering and the Built Environment. Her work has appeared in New Contrast, Brittle Paper and The Kalahari Review.