in the fifth season
the one called harvest
when the trees hung heavy
with every promise ever whispered
mouth ear mouth
i you forever, yes!
in the fifth season
i washed my hands of shapes
horse house dog love
and lined them on the mantel
and turning too quickly fell from an upstairs window
i fell through time and in and out of every story i have ever made
i fell through every net i’d made in case of this and
after that i fell in earnest
wild inconsolable glorious
starfish bitch
i fell through black
past stars

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