Mirages Do Not Escape Exception

sharp angle acute

hangs an arrow and points it
at the moon

the one of clock-face

worn in the hallway of the person
who halved-self the I

and the other
hatched from the draw-bridge of open legs

both eyes
in the face of my skull

do not have to carry
Latvia nor Lithuanian statues

into this basement room

tears from the firehouse-guardians of Liberty
figments of a flashing icon

the appearance of
night and day


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