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Image for the poem Approaching Dark

Approaching Dark

In the desk drawer with erasers and pencils to short to    
sharpen. Every night the clock has to be wound of the  
approaching dark. The thunder echoing like the cracking    
of knuckles. Touching the ground of the decaying compost  
where the dead sleep with pointed-up toes. Murmuring a    
litany of musical chairs.    
Written by adagio
Published
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