Saturday, February 5, 2011

COTTON TWILIGHT


cotton bucks pale through flossed sky
the last light turned out
twists to sepia slow
momentary ringlets that that eat
night's fingers and hedge memory
of the eight year old who bolted
after lightning bugs
who bridged crepuscular and uninterrupted
fixed to death from the first
twist of heart
and I unable
to step out of dusk

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