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 By Beth Konopka It's autumn now, he's still away. Said he'd be back long ago. Cold winds blow suffrage in with the snow. By Katherine CowieCool blue mud on my toes tonight As I peel off the snake skin And lick the wound that might Leave a mark
Twist my head through the cracking shell And squeeze out of my loving arms Into the new night air where I am no longer a child.
Students interested in submitting works for this column should contact Ron Price in the Liberal Arts Department at ext. 368, or by e-mail (ronprice@juilliard.edu).Beth Konopka and Katherine Cowie are both fourth-year dance students.
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