By Robert Lescatre
Emotion leaves desires trees
flying east to catch the sun
bleating intermittently all the
while holding form and shape
Grace was not the first reaction
nor beauty in a truer sense
beating the devil with repetition
as if it were the only thing worth it
Dark blue to black the sky rises
the sun will be invading your taste
like citric acid on its way back
Sea landing on placidity personified
preen, preen, preen, investigate
watching the ultraviolet rays
re-coloring with the hot end
biding my time for departure north
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