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May 2014
that omnipresent camera settles on
my hand, glowing in the dim light
the deep brown shadows shift in the
moving car, polygon animals that creep
back and forth in steady patterns, and
you pan up my arm, don't meet my face
shift to my legs, a soft lavender in the evening
and off in the distance thunderheads sleepily
roll across the hills and slivers of light
jet out across little cabins like little jewels
embedded in the pastures, out my window
you focus in on my moving lips, some song
on the radio you'll never remember, just the
chorus you'll never place, but my lips moving
in the fading sunlight, but my lips moving in
the fading sunlight, but my lips moving in the
fading
sunlight.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
brooke
Written by
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