MOSS

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a follow-up on SQUINT & about madness, murder, and aftermath

MOSS

 

1

Let me begin with moss.

 

I watch its green-backed riding

over startled stones

that settle into warmth

and please the feet

by being inarticulate, remote.

 

2

Within my hands, her bowed head

mildews and across her shoulders

moss beings a mild advance,

enters her eyes like gorgeous furs,

green cataracts.

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