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Dec 2010
The rocking feels familiar
because we have been here
before, swaying on the crescent
of a black hour.  A moment poised
on the lip of dawn.  I am not rooted
like this oak but I will tender a tentative
nest.  A patchwork home for the feathered
rhythm of your breath.  Because this is too much
it is not enough.  The contradiction of insufficiency.
Alexandra Carlyle
Written by
Alexandra Carlyle
934
   Andrew
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