Words afford us the luxury of resuscitating the unspoken and occasionally, the unspeakable
Monday, November 6, 2017
Gaze
I've wandered through the archaeology
Of our past etchings
To hear the humming
Of the old
I've patched a moonbeam
Settled in the cradle of my palm
As the moon stabbed the sky
Feeble vestige of our light
Melted in the mist
Of a singular gaze
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