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Echo Near the End

Around me life has darkened like the afternoon.
Anymore to emulate the sunlight’s posture,
I slither down off that perfect backbone.
Severs and brothers, brokens and sisters, is this it?

I am alone, but so are we. We are alone but so.
Banking slowly the monster completes its turn--
A clingathon of wings flaps through a halo
That holds a weddingring up to a keyhole to

Pen in the one my fear was assisting at
The birth of adrenaline: I pause I postulate.
Wait. A mousehole Morpheus stamps our passport;
Let’s hope sleep has the good stuff tonight.

Murder blinks eyes upon eyes. Suicides
Stick to the roof of the mouth, stupid tripod of spit.

--Bill Knott



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