There’s a hurricane between me
And the staircases of Venus.
But unearthed by magic-spells,
The big, bad ghosts are forsaken.
But not as forsaken as us,
When we fall in the moon-closet,
Unwound under the lucky bridge.
They spat their guts, ours.
Good-bye doomed constellations,
From Earth it looks high and bright.
We are shining like a new penny,
Waiting in a handful of dirt.
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