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A Moments Future

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children play
sand cuddled between
toes nails
suction cupped under their
palms heels
fires will eventually
out-burn themselves
until ashes scatter
glitter like guns
moon light filtering through
each crevice of the waves
losing its shape
the deeper it sinks
and here I am
watching wishing these
jagged patterns
were bitten onto my skin
stuck like sweated-on sand
clingy seaweed
tongues on ice
here I am
hands tucked behind my head
watching spread-on stars
sure of the air I need
of the dreams I think
unsure of what pattern
the moon will make with me





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