• Vol. 02
  • Chapter 09
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The Memory of Dust

Caught in the corona
of a crepuscular ray,
motes dance
above the oat field,
weaving the memory
of this moment
into the fabric
of the air;
this moment
when we stopped
to pull on our jackets
ahead of a summer storm
and found ourselves
sandwiched
between the black
and the gold.
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