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A H Butler Jan 2018
Dull throbbing twilight.
I bit my tongue so
hard it bled.
A voice spoke:
said she'll be in Europe,
unmerged.
I will be in Europe.

Take
this moment alone
to hide behind the earth.

Pain as an open door,
forward motion encouraged.
Written word repeated today:
begin your year.    
Robed in fluid, and in hurt,
obsequious dead
anchored
In dusted pillars rise.

An object held motionless by the sun’s gaze.
A vital outpouring of stillness,
as ninety degrees of intensifying steps
                            cascade like waterfalls.
© A H Butler

— The End —