No pity. No sighs
behind her back. If
she says the word
out loud, it will become
her. No grace
period. She hums
“Female Jesus”
as she walks
the streets alone
at night—that last
Athens, GA, scene
still fresh. No colder
here than there—
and that’s the real pity.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 
great poem !
the last line made me think:
No colder
here than there-
four spikes and three corners.
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Thanks Michael.
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