The Loss

Someone is getting excited about watching
the loss tonight, which perhaps is the lesson
about it. When that arrives not as migration,
or paired molecules, what is more to be expected
than tangents, is the many there are there will

always be in that one with nothing to compromise.
Those with a weathered handle on this fact might
find an apt comparison with the petting of a dog,
with the rag of her wet hair still cold from the outside.
Oceanic tide of the sentience in their black snouts,

disembodied curiosity towards what lays under
the stones, the something of the inevitable that goes
beneath the hurdle in receipt of odes after unaccountable
infiltrates. So the counter side of the sun and moon
mirroring solemn mass beyond gravity’s persuasion.

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