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Posts Tagged ‘the poet’

The rose had beaten her
to catching up with the moment
equally as sleepless
and heavy hips drooping
with pre-dawn condensation
struggling against gravity.
Weight.
Atmospheric pressure.

A single pluck
and then silence.

Laying her head flat
against the z words
she would let the knight of Webster,
ever green his shimmering armor,
perform the blow.
Xertz. Quire. Jollox. Cumberground.
And last… agastopia.
A thud. The non-euclidean space
would briefly make things new.

She knew time well. It’s serpentine vice.
She ate dinner while she waited.

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