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Ephemera
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To lay bare this tent
you want memory
—on all sides a darkness

held down by rope
though one arm stays empty
for daylight, the other

locked in stone
while you unfold
the way this canvas remembers

rootlessness, winds and the Earth
going at it alone
wobbling, just starting up

—you need more rope
and the sky that leans too far
held back by sails

spread out for the rain
left over from when the sun
was struck by lightning

and the monstrous thirst
all stars are born with
though you tie each knot

already a flower whose roots
are planted in stone, held
so one hand never dries

drifts and this sea
end to end
a darkness into darkness.



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