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searching a one night Ouija board
paradise
spades
and hearts
glass
house holies
I
linger in how
she
walked
saunter-carrying
pocket-ballasting
smooth
stones
clutched
palms
and
poems
I
wake early
to
write
to
stain
her
nightstand
a
maple three legged
pedestal
top
mid
amber patina
nicked
and otherwise marked
in
various sharp echoed memories
that
water will leave behind
a
perfect canvas
to
trace and gorge on
nascent
what once was
a now greedily
drunk
on spring tendril ghosts
ripening, in
the space
right
beside her
I
watch how she breathes
her gently
sloping
kelp
sea bending
before
dawn comes
to
take Morpheus
and
her love
of
the never ending night
away
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