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by Lilah Gorfain

Midnight
 

A pale moon frowns down

Upon your soft cheek, brushes

it with light then dark.

Atlas

On the damp hotel lawn

I could only make jokes 

At the flagpole

 

When all I really wanted

Was to scream and howl

At the dark moon

 

Last December, a psychic

Spoke of a divine meeting of souls

I think it was you, holding up the sky

And then it was me, falling back asleep.

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