That day Kitty Fenlon,
propped up in her bed,
was staring at the bedspread.
Snow melting in her eyes
fell, tiny bells,
into the valley far below.
Suddenly, arms spread wide,
a blizzard of hair,
she swept outward
off her ledge,
into the sky
across the room.
We stared at her
non-plussed face,
the four pillows tucked behind her.
(previously pub. in the sHop)
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