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At Midnight

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the sky droops over the moon like a half closed eye
a drowsy chaperon pacing the sky
a pool of milky incandescent light
lulling, hushed under sleepy lids of eyes,
Honor;
we have none when the moon comes out.
we stretch out like purring cats, 
licking the tufts of fur about our ankles.
The star’s fingers uncurl to show us
jewels of milky incandescent light
so quickly we say they twinkle
when they are just burning stems of dying night
Earth,
he is so young and restless, shifting in his skin and
somersaulting around his warm mother’s yellow skirt;
does she notice how he clings to her?
And, I, I am born to die. 
born to love so I can die
born to learn so I can die
born to breath and make
carbon dioxide, so I can die
Born,
to lay aroused- swaddled in sweat and stardust, 
filled with warm dopey breaths and sighs
the cicadas and crickets 
humming out the song of summer midnight
falling in and out of blurry blue fever dreams
about cat claws and moonshine and twilight’s blue sheen
the moon man, the space drifter, sleeps in his orbit 
and we come out to prowl over the black plains 
naked and shimmering, 
we bathe in the pools of darkness and wind our black hair about our elbows
we kiss our thighs skyward, arch our backs,
and softly, we sing.



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