White Promises, Shallow Rivers

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You came in the dead midnight
Stars snored, lisping
blue light thinly on
your white robes.

You promised slow rivers,
shallow waters running warmly
where ancient crabs paddled
and exoskeletons creaked, and

that my sins were no more than
dirty slivers to be plucked
but you didn't know me.

You would wash away my
sins -
a big word, I think it's far more
likely that they would
wash away your
river.





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