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Nov 2017
A liquid wind blows across fertile loss-covered landscapes.
Seducing and touching, enticing me into a silent embrace.
How does love continue to love in a place like this?

I saw you waiting, looking at the men swimming in the ***** dead water. A faint smile from an old woman, her eyes half closed and fingers bent. The sounds of traffic and voices over the bridge.

I kissed you, and you moaned slightly, the first moment of the world. As the veil of winter grunted along the river bank and the dark clouds began to sing.

Now the trees have too much knowledge in grief. But  I remember the faint-like layers of your eyes and everything that was close to my face.
Written by
Andrew Duggan
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