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our solitude

rub the dark

spot of her

solitude, her


feathers                               down


..                                             give,

the water here                  is


mottled, spun

by the late sun,                 high

clouds & gulls


heading out.


& still                                     we’re alone

even when I

sanctify these

gentle folds

beneath the                       cold heavens.


2 thoughts to “our solitude”

  1. Love the gravity of this, Marco, the ‘dark spot / of her solitude’, the typography with that ‘..’ speaking something unspeakable, the ‘even when’ of the third stanza and its tension of what hangs each side of it.

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