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by Donna Dallas

I’m trying not to die as the Sundays fade into the full
half and quarters of my night lantern
a heavy hoard that has nicked
the two-year mark
appears in the limy-yellow caverns of my moon
your moon

I try not to grow old with too much caffeine and cigarettes
hung under my belt a little noose never untied
I want your little black kitten for my own
they have nine lives and maybe I can borrow a few

I’m waiting you know the moon comes to my window wrapped
in the full velvet garb of night to bless me with his moon glow
there is a little dark halo over the moon and I know
you see it on your side of the world

I’m lighting the candle all the time now
any day you should come
floating in dark angel
coffee wings and coffee eyes
I know you of old and there has not been a time that you would
forget me or your moon children
waiting on the cusp of Saturn and Jupiter

dance with me I was looking for the moon in the back yard
but he is hiding tonight
dance to forget
we can you know
if we really want to

I’m a little sillier now
it seems the moon has made me youthful
I’m going to try once more not to die

Copyright © 2019 by Donna Dallas

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