Not Mine, But Yours

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NOT MINE, BUT YOURS


Not unlike walking at midnight 

into the Savannah and lighting


a flare, or paddling past 

the sand bar with a gushing 


wound, and waiting there

in the haunting hush 


of crickets and wave-lap

for whatever will come 


parting the darkness to receive you

in the warmth of its gaping jaws.


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