there is nothing blue
or word like worldlight
nothing big but bracken
stark on less stark
sky
"women drink from mirrors
like thirsty stags" and
their images are magazine
clippings caught in the wind
wash
my own unsightly stares
carom room to room
overwhelm themselves
become beacons
or whirl up away to
be helium filled
parasols, big skirts caught
in updrafts; gleeful my
eyes
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