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by Sharmagne Leland-St. John

the night is calm
a honeydew moon hangs

evades a gauze of clouds
above this silhouette

of branches bereft of leaves
as I bleed out my poems

once when I was young
and the night was shy

owls hooted
like the northbound train

cicadas clicked
in summer symphony

I searched the night sky
for something to call my own

something devoid of longing
something I could hold onto

when rivers slipped through
my forgetful fingers

when minnows sang
the song of rainbows

in the gelid after-birth of shoals
to the tune of involution

and a freckling of stars
was swept away by the dawn


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