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The Crickets of Memory

Date Written: October 17, 2017


Old love.

Like an ether,

You visit me.

And loll in the pastures

Of the crickets of memory.


Fold, love.

Lay your hearts flush

On the table,

To account for our history,

And scout cross the border

Through the sleep

Where you sent me.


Through the crippling trials

Of day and its fray,

Wild gorges of doubt,

The yawp of a native,

Worn bite on the neck

Of a mating cat hissing,

How I swear down to truth,

If all is not lost. Old love;

Still love; Or love, still not.






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