Daylight slides
tidal eyelids
all liquid beams
until it only fits
on the moon’s round ball
(hung to stare
earthwards
amazingly
suspended on gravity)
and a scattering of stars.
Across
twinges the night
full of the future
the breathless
(the possible
uncompared but
filled with songs
that only dark ears hear)
time’s own companion
pressed along
at least until dawn.
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