Where there is beauty
long grow shadows;
worms attracted to
scent of apples. Pin-holes
of the nightsky draw
the dying star
dashing it to earth.
Wild horses leave the prairie,
stand beneath careful, salty cliffs.
Birds fold their emptied wings
like feather-belted coats,
drift to sleep. In the distance,
sun becomes a bleeding artery
then, darkens and empties.
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