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Suspire
The lip of a crescent moon
A pronounced hook
A snow-filled wood at midnight-
I enter
The undisturbed, virgin white
Wading on your permanent exhale
Forthcoming to the center
Set in dark
Shadowy combs tugging; coiled
Cattails and the chambered lungfish’ weary signal
Now, respiratory torpor
Prey of reeds, a slow depress
Arms still in position
The brute limbs of mire
Prove too inviting
Ink blood and my winter complexion
Black water
Suspire on all nerves
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https://www.theguardian.com/stage/gallery/2009/dec/01/theatre-empty-stages
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Phone Call/50th Birthday
Let go, the remaining tears
Her voice, the unfortunate infantile lostness
Forever indentured to roaming companionship
As if it were life’s essential piece
Hers, out of order
I am hearing that voice
Imagining now the faux suede
The slow effervescent rain
Two hands hold the wheel
Her vehicle is grey
as the cloud
as the tarmac
-
I am brick
I am stone
I am not a hearth
What am I?
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Oct, 29
Belt buckle———holster
Damp wool———hunter
White ribbon———stalking
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