September 1, 2007
By Zoe Johnson-Ulrich, Annandale-on-Hudson, NY

Read In the lack of moonlight My fingers brush a cold spine Under my pillow. Guarding words and worlds, Secrets and shadows, In a red glow. The words spilled onto paper like blood Smooth and easy. In my lack of moonlight I can still see the nights Darkness. In my room A place of words Soaking into paper Soaking into my mind Soaking into dreams A wet sponge of a sleepers mind.

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