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Jay Cravath Ph.D.
Sisters
My altar draws soft
edges of light
Candle and wine glass
Sisters in curved skin
hold brooding passion
​
A nighthawk shrieks
Curious stars observe
Rabbits crouch thin
​
Night opens
like a cirrus flower
to gathering ferns
A pollen offering
​
The moon records
these sacred acts
Replacing longing
with solace
​
The wine prepares
my pallet
for a lunar kiss
Languid and sustained
Without beginning
Without end
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