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 also donate some of your hard-earned dollars down below—that’s money to me, for free!

 

Gabriel Muoio

$1.00

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