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just a poem

Untitled by Sheri


Dawn comes in as a gray cat

moving down the parking lot

rising to any hand of time

creature escaped from darkness

drawn upon the whims of dead cars

and sleeping bodies

such a sight to see the first break

moving as if born there

slinking against the motion of air

pressed against like a copy machine

same day as yesterday

roaming into a place most secure

dawn is folded as a gray coated arm

holding in the heat of clouded sun

it makes the rounds to open eyes


and leaden head to a worship of ash

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