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The glass is full
and the night is overflowing

I watched
the beautiful beloved
of a forgotten confession
give birth to a silent,
but infallible, compass

I saw untouched hunger
brimming with dark legacies

true north
is a rare orchid
cut open with a scalpel

grace of blade
on folds of fever

not all nocturnal songs
are lullabies—

I saw one just crouching
under the eaves of
indecisive constellations
hanging its lyrics on
the beams of porch lights,

wide awake with intention

on a garden where the rest
of the pregnant symbols
have been spared

Image of Southwick Beach near Henderson Harbor, NY
by photographer Doug Day


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