ant5

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new year moths

on the window

box panes

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Friday night

cleaning

wounds

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a rim of salt

to the chilled

night air

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tools in the mail

with smudged

diagrams

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passing train

rattles the spoon

on the plate

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having gone to

the barn to die

the cat returns

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daytime moon

too big almost

to see

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in the bread aisle

night

falls

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blue enamel

chipped off

the binder clip

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emerging sun

the gray buildings

lose their flatness

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