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 May 2024
Caroline Shank
For us it was pure recreation, the
flap ends of days at work
We saw the night sky lighten to
the moon’s yellowed ends.

Our signals were these - -
the free
formed contacts of those who
worked in the dark.

Every time thru touch we
exolored the tiny motions,
the fingertip braille of meanings.

Then the scattered
motions slung across
the disarray-
the darkness of
lamps shutting off,

of
beds silenced, sheets
unmoved

ever again.

Not to return uncovered the
indifference, the mistaken
edges of a vocabulary grown
only
in my carved thoughts.

Feeling  blurred into
the dim haze of

indifference.

Touch

slid

away.



Caroline Shank
2.29.2024
 Oct 2020
Carlo C Gomez
On a dead of winter day
our footsteps in the snow
melt too quickly
for anyone to follow

In drops of steady rain
we picnic beside the lake
and watch fireworks
fizzle out with summer

Riding the crest of fall
but stalked by spring
and so, in the throes
of such invisible connections
we're preserved

And sitting on a shelf
awaiting our turn
to be pried open
and spread like jam
for someone to consume...
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