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Those thunderstorms
swallow with vulnerable intimacy,
dreams that lose our feelings
while lives span and loved rain
rushes.

You’re for us,
known us.
We watch, quiet,
the heart of ordered storms.

It’s stretched like clockwork,
dark and scary,
wandering waves
flitted wondering.

Don’t prepare hearts
to feel like oceans,
folded into skin and bone.

Small, raw,
easy suns
look in awe.
Guaranteed mysteries
of simple mistakes.

We’ve been the rain,
compared cages,
dreamt images
to make a warmth of
impossible never-light.

We are going, we say.
Breathing
essential passions of
tiny lights,
the small of a person’s eye
loving up
summer horizons.

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