Low-light eyes fading,
he paves the waves flat
and leaves me to wander
the dawn alone–I pick
hydrangea through the haze.
It was your fault stars didn’t
align for us, plagues
from your tongue and arms.
There’s shrines lined against
the wall, sand rounding us off–
no protection. Daylight, we sleep
the haze away to find darkness
at moonlight. There are murmurs
again, they hold me, sing to me
until all I can think about
is lying under shade in this
wind-ruled city. Feeling chills
to raise me up, ghosts of hunters,
hinterlands, and hollow bones…


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