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history tells your story
as an arrow loses direction
stops short, stretched out
in the parabolic dark
repositioning the skeleton
unprepared as hell
and so we fell
the hardwood surfaces
meeting you memorably
cantilevered and rising
ordinary as a siren
your dancefloor heart
untroubled in its own way
your feet, feet of clay
pressing the outside air and then
trembling the branch
consoling the wind
plush lamplit cushions
and candlelit comforter
funerary humor
something more tomorrow
threads twined and knotted
some ending nearly
where they started, tears
in the fabric, some loose ends
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