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I wonder if there'll be a strike,
some bright peel, a tolling in the
distant valley that says
'it's over, go' - something to
herald when he first
to her and that thing
between us isn't

a pencil rub left from
the last time 'need' was said
in common tongue under
the ripe purse of the moon
(impress on them
the severity to
track the imprint,
right?)