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now (an in-between poem)

a familiar face

a mother
(a face)

on a stick

on a pedestal
on a pedestal


on a pedestal


gazing at the brightness with which the future


comes

(it comes from your 2 o'clock)




wistful, breezy - you don't even know it's there
but she insists, still looks for it - oh!

there's more
future





marble

it doesn't twist



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