Claw
Sprawl
the mixed up call.
Swoon
june
the past too soon.
jump up your leg,
one tease,
the charade
. . some escape
. . the parade
.a curtain fall
.we all wave
.A bloom storm, is soon yours
and the wet sun, gushing
'cus the moon doesn't ask where the sun goes
when it slips from the night
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