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Tanabata by James Printer Friendly

She walked the earth

with the undue consideration

of a Brahman priest.

She believed in certain gods

for the sheer fact

that they were evil,

and she charted her faith

on overcast nights,

finding cold omens

in the pockets of clear sky

between the clouds.

I watched her mad eyes work,

lighting up with significance

when we saw the half moonís

faint glimmer

diffused through a blanket of fog.

I would stand there,

and sometimes

on humid nights

I could feel the water

coalescing on my skin.

On others, my consciousness was breathing,

the wind, cool and constant,

awakening the sense of touch within my lungs,

and moving the sky across the screen of her wild vision,

enchanting this woman into penacost

and oracles,

and I could only stand next to her

and watch the shivering and quaking

of another part of this world

thatís too overtly beautiful

to be sad.


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