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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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