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Like Plates Thrown in the Air

When it happened,
all was quiet as a church.

He stirred her flesh,
toy of the present.

The full moon
silvered the crime scene.

His silhouette
burned in, to return

in blips of memory,
desire. After supper

he sang to her. Even
the dog listened.

~ Elisabeth Murawski

Untitled by Kivilcim Gurisik

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