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A Hinterland
Simmer of light and air
reduced shapes of what
had been cultivated.
And the in-transit dark
as if concealed or on the lam
it doesn’t yet want to be
looked for or matched.

This small prize of minutes
dislodged and released
to somewhere larger;
wind-quickened mouths,
the cold breath of swept lungs.
In isolate, when self loses all
it has attached itself to and is
momentarily transparent.