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On the Edge
Broad moon rapidly drops six feet out of view.
A shadow casts on stodgy, trickling of creek.
Sharply, a face breaks ground, above plot’s subdue.
The late dead stars fall on waters, dammed and weak.
Decrepit spine, of long ago’s sound, breaks through.
A lonely girl, on the edge, heeds gusty shriek.
Bleak darkness clings to flesh, then sudden bright’ning.
Bad news - apparition’s hurling lightning.
Copyright ©
Kim Rodrigues
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