Lash of wind light streaks
the glass, I hear percussion
on the tin fan where a sky light
might have been
Lamp settles in so
I expect a little pool
of quiet light
as I expect the moon
And treble clef to catch
my sorrows breathing back
some summer and the feeling
of a sea walk that smelled safe
I spoke as though into
a certain universe with hesitation
as with common law engagement
I would hold and have and earn
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