Idea of absence, hard and bright as
Tiger's Eye in her pocket
She like it under the trees in winter.
Everything overhead, dead or
Half dead angle and arc
Heart on a shelf, lovers in jars
Contemplative,
lip chant and sing tongue tied
The nightbirds sleep with wings ajar
This feeling,
Is ordinary. Self perpetuating, elbow stacked
between earth and sky.
Like tired sisters who've dropped hands
Lover's with matching scars
or someones name indecipherable now
The silence, of something come
And something gone away
A hand that needles and threads the night away
Above
The sky is a box and a glaze
Moon Vamp
Silence
Soul throated, bird song over water
And afternoon breaking away in pieces
Memories that mix and mis-match
then settle
around us like air
Beneath all that
this
afterlife of i n s e c t s,
We are the lucky ones,
flat dream light
Myth
limb
the shelved ones
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