before dawn
no matter what you think
conclusions are palindromes
epicentred palaces of reflection
where mirrors are cats
hunting for prey. no one lifts their eyes
especially you - mindful of black ice
near the moat where that bridge burned
the one you kept trying to draw
closer. even van Gogh could hear
chains. disturbing links to patterns
you didn’t design to mean. this time
solid water rusts the night
ice eats truth for breakfast -
not wanting to put on the weight of dancing
you leave before dawn
more finished than dressed.
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