Imprisons

Too deeply
now and far
the sky falls
trembling;

now a quiet sea
a still voice
that moves
from shadow to shadow
beneath the hushing world

an ocean suspended
by the ghost
of an angry sun
raging in its grave.

The stars are tiny imprisons.
The moon a single soul
too soft
too cruel
and always turning
turning

her voice a hollow shell
spurting bitter worms.

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