the expiration date
on this small truth
that I wanted to share
elapsed a long time ago
tucked like a moonbeam
in a purgatory of caution
it patiently waited
it patiently waited
and shone its shifting
honest little twinkle
on the dark things near it
that vining from its glimmer
that vining from its glimmer
wound ever so tenderly
their way around its glow
to form a compact more fertile
perfect and complex oblivion
that at this particular point in time
has become impossible to decipher
lucy meskill
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