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Day 77- 12.2.20

It is terrible


To wake in the night and

immediately know

this is it for a while,

until dawn,

until your corner of the world

collectively wakes

many hours from now--

this waiting,

this staring at the ceiling and

out at other apartment windows,

it's terrible and yet

if I weren't in the palm of

night's hand,

would I ever write a thing?



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