Jeremiah Twomey
Twilight
with the moon going through the first of her accursed four phases
engaged to die by and by of grief, taking ages upon ages, forever
making phrases, your fair hair falling all across your face
for being famous, famous, i could have placed but blameless
were your features in relief, and i held my breath for fear
the time would fly t’would fly full well i knew regardless
of the sun’s untimely death in those trees, those trees in
silhouette which were rendered virtually harmless.
Page(s) 159
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