your deepness is not darkness,
ocean-water eyes.
grey light meanders upward
from something small and central
and the one-way fog that grants your stardom
veils the whole world from you, pretty girl.

(how) do you keep your conscience clear?
you seem to fumble carelessly
like you don't have eyes at all.
i am grateful for meteorology--
without which i would fall captive to your
dustry eyelashes and weathered hair.



bronnie


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