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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Oct 2017
The eleventh tablet.
If it gets dark
don't we just put the light on
until the darkness has gone?
that's good in theory
but the illness that besets us
makes us weary
of these undefinables.
I blow my bubbles
trapped inside them
and escape with the vapours
that rise from without them
a necromancer dancing
to the dead of the night
until
someone puts the light on.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
69/Here and now
(69/Here and now)
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