out of the spinning
white shroud of march

the heavy bells toll,
mindless as sleep

it is the seventh month

all shifts personal,
impersonal

mouth shapes a vague
sylvan silhouette a
sluice & deadly place
among the

unkind
lovers

at evening

we sleep in the amber shadows

dark as a heart that has stopped
in the middle of a love -smakka–bagms

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