Sun’s Stairway

the trembling,
the moony indigo
dance disaster—while
the world exhaled we held
our breath, counted cowrie shells,
were enough for some fateful purpose
that escaped us then—here sun’s stairway,
death of memories at last, we weren’t nearly

all that bad.

Thanks for checking out my poem.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can read it here for free, or get it for your e-reader on iBooks, Amazon or Kobo. Or you can just say you read the book, and donate five bucks down below. Go on.

Gabriel Muoio

$1.00

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