by EJ Shu
beckon the penumbra
keel with a practised lean
into the graving dock
imitate delay
hang the tidal thesis
on the lowlight blocks
between spring and neap
flush iodine to redden the reaped fields
sing the willie wagtail
into the rare hot night
that ever-weathering silks the fine fraction
that ions drape the old surface
that dark mantling stains
the face of the regolith
like dogs’ tears
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