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 Mar 2014 Ann Beaver
JL
Salt
 Mar 2014 Ann Beaver
JL
Which  hand is the penny in?
I think I'd like to be tricked again
Once more silver eye
I seldom sense it in your sigh
Oxygen conversion is your diversion

I hear the horns against the cliff
A moon familiar crescent slips
Silently from the sea
Are you..
Are you quite alone?

I feel the frost on my bones
Memories split the northern sky
The stars call me
A glow like fire I have known
Caught upon the web of words
I remain
Listening Night

Tangled in the hair of you
I sniff war smoke
You do not waver
I do not
Tightening the knot

Blood I wish to not know you
Pouring perfume round nostrils
Flared
Jaw so clenched
Pulse
I taste your presence in my throat

Blood drunk among the fray
Or curled warm among the furs
That night before the sea
I dream of it
 Mar 2014 Ann Beaver
A B Perales
To be Loved
is mostly
temporary and at
times a lie.

But to be missed
to be remembered
lasts as long as
a memory
and is about as
real as it's ever
going to get..
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