• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 11

Mapping

Moon as ripe as a fruit
drunk on sunshine,

pinned to its page, blue
like a lonely sigh.

I come to this place
alone,

make myself at home
for a while;

sit by the red flame
of its startled eye,

bloodshot
by the daily sight

of distance —
but distance does not

scare me anymore. Here
is where I nest

late at night, try to
connect the dots

between stars.

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