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Moonlight's Marimba
 
I would wish
                     a trust of darkness -
                                                    switch off and sail the moon
                       hear the owl
                       (its killing flight)
                       call to the clock
                       no hands
                       balancing above silhouettes
 
       a listening
                      to moonlight's marimba
                        to sticks of bone
                      to chalkland's mother -
                        a swollen shell
                      rising above fences
 
       a noticing
                        of the fox's sharp bark -
                       holly-needle      gorse-pin
                           the prick of thistle
                             drawing blood
 
                                         the full moon
                                             let in
                                         through the opening
                                           to bathe in her mirror
 
      in her face
                     its craters
                                    are dustbowls of aging
                                                                       far away
                                                                                     as the sun.  
 

 

 

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