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Mar 2012
A March dusk blotted stale
bodies; jet-black water
ran thick with puerile inks
and imparted abandon.

Head shrouded in
cobalt mist, night idled
by a black pane that
rang dull and flat.

Backtracking rooks caught
the vacant eye: threading
a monarchical purple cloak
to hoard the transient days.
Goodness, i need to be more creative with these titles!
thomas gabriel
Written by
thomas gabriel
   Sister Sinister and ---
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