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Edward Cossette
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A Bloody Indian

“Freckles,” I whispered...

deep in the mountains

passing Dordemma

a ripple of grass

Northern Migration

tucking in her skirt

morning storm clouds build

cursing the clouds

summer street Hanoi

coming all this way

near the acacia

fanning red charcoal

tired of temples

ancient gate at Hue

© 2025 Edward Cossette