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In A Room Full of Glass, the Moon is Queen
cold moon…
trouble me not with your naked eye
dark tears of light you liquefy
and bathe in blood slow western crawl
capture breath upon god’s wall
a winter’s river sweet black as stone
in me your darkness flows alone
dispossession life is war
an unsound calm defines your core
so out of place we wander wane
the scent of sun on skin sustain
my memory through space of kin
between the shadows of our sin
you hold my hand in lifeless rift
and you, oh you and me adrift
…cold moon
in the candle of the sea
holds
the glut of rain
against her beating breast - for me
cascading droplets
into the universe
full of glass
declares:
“I am the sun, alas
…alas”
Copyright ©
Mat Ignacio
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