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Oct 2011
We were startled into gazing at the sun—
forgetting ourselves, we were
startled by its sudden procession
from the air thick with rain like putrid light—
startled so that we stared hungrily
at luminescence cast
between brow and lips of cloud.
It was this one final moment of clarity,
this last, most terrible death throe.
It touched us briefly, skin to skin.
It touched us; we two shattered humans here
belying grief
in wonderment, fear or love
in our naked yearning for all sky.
Suspended in a milky absolution,
it vanished,
a mirror resolved on itself,
a sudden imprint of inverted light on our aching eyes.
Peter Taylor McConnell
599
   melodie foley
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