in an effort to understand, the corpse is paraded on the breeze

water moth moth

to water no candle here

lifting one last time a Lazarus season,

the job between flame and wing: what

trials are left the downward air,

the slide as ghosts the sidelines fret?

this is real, then, your body.

too many mantles of frost, coffee

spilled shoulders hunch a love exaggerated.

there is a place your wings repaired, paired

your place and wings, the finest dust

ensorcelled hair strikes the face behind

fingers grasp and failing fall.

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