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Writer's pictureEvan Williams

Ac ~ qui ~ esce


I saw the Moon last night;

full and bright.

He winked at me

and caught my breath.


This morning he was gone —

naked,

awash in his spectral kiss —

slipped away in the early hours.


I might search for him again tonight,

through passing clouds,

red-cheeked with memory.

Yet, still.

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