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See, some songs sing 
so slowly: stereos show spring 
scenes, soil sprouting such soft 

sounds. Silence—static seeps 
still, so she’s slippery 
staccato. Smooth, slithering, speakers 

singing. See? She shows 
such sugary sunsets, she spits sour 
sights—so study slow. Stop 

speaking. She’ll stay silent, 
shifting, so stare. Stay stiff, stay 
soundless. Soon, she’ll sing 

such sacred songs, shaping 
space—so slightly, so soft. 

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Ellery Beck has work published in Passages North, Typehouse, Poetry South, Waccamaw and elsewhere. They are one of the editors of Beaver Magazine, as well as a poetry reader for Poet Lore.

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