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QQ.

…and you feel a distance
once this sun reaches our land

like your childhood

…

there are matches
burn these leaves
and unfolded notes

…

I can’t come back here
like a dandelion
pulled from its roots

…

and we kneel
closer
like your body
when I wish

it was my body

…

at midnight
we are carried away
by your breath

…

after—
noon

…

ignored
Posted 12/28/12
This is a piece from a much larger manuscript.
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